Half-Life
by Imogen74
Summary: Taking place the 2nd half of the Half-Blood Prince, into TDH. Hermione is the one who overhears Snape and Malfoy, and she takes on the task of figuring out what he's up to. Dramione.
1. General Malaise

_So…this is my first Harry Potter fic. I've only just gotten into Dramione, which is curious, because it's honestly the exact type of pairing that I love. It's also odd that I haven't written for Harry Potter before, since I know the books practically by heart. _

_Of course, this starts out half way through THBP. I'll take off from there. I'm quite certain that this has been done before, many thousands of times over…but I figured, why the hell not. _

_No idea how long this will be. _

_Doubtful it'll be more than a "T" rating. _

_Reviews and such are most welcome. _

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

She ran out of the room and down the corridor to the right. She was certain that he didn't notice her escape…

Hermione ducked into a classroom and her hand flew to her throat as she gasped. What a mess. Cormac McClaggen was such a prat.

What _had_ she been thinking?

Annoy Ron. That's what.

She didn't need to remind herself that he likely didn't care one whit that she went to Slughorn's party with McClaggen.

And she felt stupid, something she felt much more often than she cared to admit.

It was then that she heard it…

Voices…Professor Snape…and…

"Malfoy," she breathed, peering around the corner.

Harry had been right. Malfoy looked odd indeed…thinner, and if possible, even more pale. They were speaking in hushed voices. She strained to hear.

"What if I don't need your help?" Draco hissed.

"You're being careless. Honestly, Crabbe? Goyle? They're not exactly the brightest lookouts, as you put it."

"I've got this under control," his voice was cold.

"If you'll tell me what your plans are, I can help. Be of some service…."

"You think I don't know what you're doing," he paused.

Hermione's breath hitched. She swallowed. Had they heard something?

"What is it?" Snape sounded as though he had turned his face toward the inside of the room Hermione was hiding in.

"Nothing. Thought I …nothing. It's fine. I'm fine."

"Draco…"

"Don't," he spat. "This is my problem. And keep your nose out of it."

"I made a promise, Draco. I made the Unbreakable Vow," Snape's voice was a sibilant whisper.

"Really," he responded impassively.

And there was another whisper, and then Malfoy said, "Stay out of it," and Hermione heard him leave.

She stayed there a moment longer, then heard Snape leave. She got unsteadily from her crouching position and thought about what she had just heard.

Then Hermione darted out of the room and, taking her shoes off, hurried down the corridor. She would try to be as quiet and as quick as possible…he couldn't have gotten far. She ran, looking both left and right as she did. Where _did_ Malfoy get to?

And as she slowed, she saw him. He was ascending stairs on her left.

She watched as his shoed feet disappeared…he was on the seventh floor. She tiptoed up, careful to remain quiet. The stone was cold on her stockinged feet.

Hermione trod carefully along, keeping well away from him as she followed, but hearing him walk along all the same. She followed a bend, and as she turned again, she saw Malfoy, in the middle of the passage, facing her.

"I thought so."

She froze.

"Well? What are you doing, Granger?"

"I'm…" what _was_ she doing? She paused. Why not come clean? "I was following you."

"Really?" he shoved his hands in his pockets, and kicked his head back to get the hair out of his eyes. "Why would you do that, hm?"

"I …I heard you speaking with Professor Snape."

He didn't move.

"What are _you_ doing, Malfoy?"

"RIght. Like I'd tell you. You're Potter's friend. Nothing but a…" but he stopped.

"A what," she took a step toward him.

His face fell and he looked at his shoes. "Nothing."

"You were about to call me a Mudblood, because that's what you've always called me. Best come up with something else, Malfoy. Your insults are old and ineffective."

"How about prying, intrusive, and nosy?" he looked at her with a steady eye.

She crossed her arms. "Better. What are you doing…?" she looked around. "You're…this is the Room of Requirement."

"Well spotted," he muttered.

She looked at him. "What's going on?"

"Taking a walk. Is that a crime?"

Her mind started to work very fast. "Where were you off to? What's Snape making the Unbreakable Vow for?"

"You know, it's odd hearing you _ask_ so many questions instead of listening to you _answer_ so many, but no less annoying."

She let her arms fall and took a few steps toward him.

He backed up, but didn't leave. "Look Granger. Why don't we just forget this whole scene? You turn around and go back to your tower, I'll go back to my dungeon where I belong."

He looked bad. Peaked and weary.

He swallowed. "Potter and Weasley are no doubt wondering about you."

"McClaggen," she corrected.

"Sorry?"

"I …went with Cormac McClaggen," Hermione was only a couple of feet away from him now, and she felt something she hadn't ever felt about Malfoy before. Concern. "You don't look well at all."

"Thanks, Granger," he mumbled. "Are we quite finished here? I _was_ going someplace."

"How about the hospital wing?"

"What for?" his face contorted into a grimace.

"For…help…?" she reached him. He was somewhat taller than her. Definitely taller than Harry, but shorter than Ron. She had to look up a bit to see him.

"Help," he chuckled. "Who'd help me…" he said this almost to himself.

"Madam Pomfrey. It's her job, you know."

"I don't need help, Granger," he sneered.

"What do you need, then?"

"Solitude," and he turned, leaving her there.

Hermione watched him leave, then turned around and walked back down the corridor. Tomorrow she'd decide if she'd tell Harry and Ron everything that just transpired, or bits of it. Because right now, she was simultaneously intrigued, baffled, and scared.

It was going to be a long night.


	2. Ginny Asks a Question

He was in the common room, staring at the fire. He probably should have asked Snape for some help, but really, what could he do? He was a bloody teacher. And, Malfoy believed, he was in this for his own glory.

Draco's head fell back. He hated that he hated being so utterly alone. He had, in fact, been alone most of his life. He was just too stubborn to admit it.

And self loathing crept into his cells as he felt his lungs fill with air.

Opposing forces. Self loathing and life.

How many times had he been on the brink and covered it with a snarky comment? Countless, really.

And he closed his eyes.

"Where've you been?" Goyle's voice interrupted his reverie.

"Working," replied Malfoy with his usual nonchalance.

"You never showed up."

Malfoy lifted his head. "I was detained," and he stood. "Heading to bed," and he left Crabbe and Goyle there, bemused expressions on their faces, though no one could claim that as unusual.

He laid in his bed, thinking of his task. And his mind went to Katie Bell. He had tried to convince himself that he didn't care that she had gotten in his way…

But something told him he did care. It wasn't just an accident. He had taken steps to do this thing, and she had gotten in the way.

And he felt sick when he thought about her.

He turned on his side and closed the tapestry around the bed, thinking that he'd need to begin to work more quickly. He didn't want to keep up this charade…it was almost as taxing on his mind as the thing he had to do.

His strides were long as he made his way down the seventh floor corridor. He hadn't gone to Transfiguration, though he wasn't fussed. McGonagall was strict about attendance, but it was his first this year.

And he was fairly certain he had an "O" in the class so far.

He turned the corner.

And stopped.

Granger was sitting on the floor across from the invisible door to the Room of Requirement. He slowed his pace, his shoes scraping the stone floor.

She looked up at him, then stood.

He smirked at her. "What are you doing here, Granger?"

"Waiting for you."

He shoved his hands in his pockets, his head fell, his hair with it. "Why?" and as he looked up again, there was a slight twinkle in his eyes.

"Because you're up to something. And I think you're unwell."

"That's rich. You think I'm unwell. What do you care?" he took a step forward.

"I care because I'm scared you're going to hurt someone."

He swallowed.

He saw that she noticed.

A long breath issued from his nostrils and he shook his head. "Look. Why don't we call a truce, hm? You leave me alone, I'll leave you alone. I won't even call you a Mudblood."

"You just did."

A wry smile betook his face. "Had to get a last one in. For old time's sake."

"Look, Malfoy…Harry thinks all sorts of things. And I'm…" she looked at him, brow furrowed.

"You're what?"

"I'm beginning to wonder if he's not onto something."

He felt his stomach fall. Potter was suspicious. Just what he needed.

He didn't respond immediately, mostly because any snark he might have offered seemed to pale in comparison to what Granger just said.

"You really should go and play with your Gryffindor babies. They're likely looking for you."

"What's going on, Malfoy? What are you doing in the seventh floor corridor again in less than twenty four hours?"

"It's touching you're keeping such a close eye. Does Weasleby know? Wouldn't he care that you're stalking a Slytherin?"

She shook her head. "I know that something is going on. And I'm going to find out what it is," she ended in a whisper.

"Looking forward to it," he nodded.

She glared at him, but turned and walked back down the corridor.

He sighed, and asked the door to open for him yet again.

* * *

Hermione made her way to Arithmancy, but her mind was on Malfoy. She decided to be more covert in the future, and once she had an idea of what was going on, she'd confront him again.

She hadn't spoken to Harry about any of this…and she was still ignoring Ron, so there was that.

She sighed as she scratched notes with her quill. She _should_ say something to Harry. At least give him the consolation that he wasn't alone in his suspicions…because she was convinced that something was up with Malfoy.

But then again, she might just make it worse. Harry was completely obsessed with discovering something about him, and giving him fuel…she closed her eyes. What if he does something rash? What if he makes it worse?

Couldn't Hermione be more effective, ultimately, in getting him to talk?

She wasn't sure. She was, in fact, a Mudblood. And Malfoy hated her.

But did he hate Harry more?

She thought about their interaction an hour ago. Could he have spoken to Harry like that?

Maybe she'd just carry on for a few more days. Talk to Malfoy once more…then make her decision about telling Harry.

Which, in turn, would lead to Ron finding out.

She inked an "i" with some force at the thought of him.

He really was insufferable. And not because she was jealous, but because he was such a hypocrite. And a child.

Lavender and he really made a smashing couple.

Hermione looked out of the window.

She wasn't sorry that things had unravelled the way they had. It gave her perspective. And Ron was happy. At least, he appeared to be.

Arithmancy ended, and she got up and left in a rush. She hurried up to the common room and into her bedroom. Hermione got into sweats and sweatshirt, and started homework. She'd decided to give it a little time.

Then she'd go back to the seventh floor.

* * *

It wasn't working. No matter how hard he tried, the cabinet would only transport bits of whatever they put in the other at Borgin and Burkes.

That wouldn't do.

He tried another spell. Sent a cup through.

Ten minutes later, the handle of the cup was on the shelf of the vanishing cabinet.

Malfoy almost cried.

He leaned his forehead against the door jam. Months of this.

The only good thing coming out of all of this madness was his magical acumen was heightened. He had to study more.

He left the Room and looked for Crabbe.

Nothing.

He sighed and, with a slow gait walked down the corridor to the stairs.

…and Hermione crept out of the shadows. He _had _been in the Room of Requirement.

She went back to Gryffindor Tower, trying to think about who she could confide in that wasn't Harry or Ron.

And as if on cue, Ron came in with Lavender. He looked at her, and his face was decidedly less happy than what she was accustomed to when Lavender was around. "Hey," he said.

"Hi."

He appeared to waffle, then Lavender pulled him to the sofa in front of the fire.

Hermione sighed. Must she be subjected to the noise of Ron's sloppy kissing? She rolled her eyes and stood, just as Ginny came through the portrait hole with Dean. They appeared to have been having a row.

Hermione thought that Harry might be pleased.

…and it hit her. Ginny! She was trustworthy.

"Ah…Ginny? Can we talk? Upstairs?"

She looked at Hermione crookedly, then nodded. "Sure. I'll see you later, Dean."

They walked up to the girls' dormitory, Hermione wringing her hands in front of her. They went inside of the fifth years' room, as Hermione was feeling especially paranoid.

"What's up?" Ginny put her hands in the back pockets of her jeans.

"So…" she sat on Ginny's bed. "So…" she cleared her throat.

And Ginny, sensing something serious, pulled a chair over and sat in front of her. "Yeah?"

"You know how Harry is really preoccupied with Draco Malfoy and thinks he's up to something terrible?"

Ginny nodded.

"Well, I think he might be right. Or at least, he's not wrong."

"Ok…?"

"I …I confronted him. Malfoy. He looks really bad. He's acting very…odd."

Ginny sat back. "Behaving oddly and looking worse for wear are not crimes. If that were the case, Ron would be serving a life sentence in Azkaban."

Hermione laughed. "Yeah but…" she sat forward, her elbows on her knees. "I think he's in some sort of trouble. And he might be getting desperate. And that makes him dangerous. Shakespeare said, _Tempt not a desperate man._ It means that desperate people fall easily into traps…and I think he has done. Or will do."

"What did he do when you confronted him?"

"He just…he _talked_ to me. Instead of just saying words at me. Even though he didn't really say much."

"He didn't take his wand out?"

Hermione shook her head.

"And you haven't told anyone this?'

"No. That's one of the reasons I'm talking to you. Do you think I should tell Harry? Or maybe go to Dumbledore?"

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know. Tell him what, exactly? That you agree with him about Malfoy? Because that's all I've heard you say."

"But that's not all. He's been in the Room of Requirement."

"Ohhh…" Ginny's entire demeanor changed. "That _is _strange."

"Precisely."

"I dunno, Hermione. Maybe if you tried to get more information, then tell Harry…because Harry….he tends to be irrational when it comes to Malfoy."

"Yeah," she whispered. "That's basically what I had decided. I just needed to talk to someone about all of this."

"Sure. I get that."

Hermione stood, brow furrowed. "It isn't lying, is it?"

"No. Not exactly…unless Harry asks you directly."

She nodded.

"So…if you don't mind me asking…what's your take on Ron?"

"Hm?" she was distracted answering her.

"You know…Ron and Lav…?"

"Oh! You mean Won Won and Lav Lav?"

Ginny laughed. "Yeah."

"I dunno. I don't really care."

The red head paled. "You don't?"

"No…why? Should I?"

"Well, it's just that…I thought that you did. I was rather _hoping_ that you did," a knowing look passed her visage.

Hermione looked at her, and a dawning understanding reached her. Ginny wanted her and Ron to be together. As in, romantically. "Oh…well, I thought that I was interested in Ron. You know. Romantically. But I dunno. The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced that we're better as friends," she paused. "I'm not really into the idea of romantic stuff, Ginny. I'm too inside my own head. Nobody wants to deal with that."

"Someone might," she shrugged.

"Well, if I ever find them, you'll be the first to know."

Ginny nodded, and a small smile sprang to her lips. "Lemme know if there's anything else I can do, ok? About Harry."

Hermione smirked. "Yeah…how's things with Dean?"

"Oh fine. He's annoying. But then, isn't everyone, really?"

She nodded. "Yep. They sure are," and she turned, leaving the room.

* * *

Almost a full month had passed, and he was no closer to repairing the cabinet. It was outrageous. And the enormity of what he was doing weighed on him to the point that he had started to slump physically.

It was February.

Only a few more months before he'd need to act.

And he knew that if it wasn't repaired before June it would be no good and he'd need to think of something else.

But the something else's were running thin…he'd tried poison twice to no avail.

And there was the irritating, constant presence of Crabbe and Goyle. He was beginning to view them more as hindrances than help.

Perhaps he needed a new confidant. Or just…someone.

Pansy crept into his thoughts…but she was so…

Immature.

Draco Malfoy left the Room of Requirement once more. He had started to hate the place.

And he trudged down the stairs to the dungeon where his common room was, and more importantly, his bed.

He'd practice more transfiguration spells in the morning.

…and Hermione Granger watched as he descended the many floors beneath her.

Tomorrow, she'd decide exactly how she was handling this situation. She already had a couple of ideas in mind.


	3. Room Enough

_Room Enough_

She was fairly certain that she'd worked out what he needed when he asked the room to open for him.

She'd been watching now, off and on, for weeks.

And now she stood, wand in hand, in front of the bare wall. "I need the place where everything is hidden," she whispered. "I need the place where everything is hidden," she said again. And after her third time uttering the words, the door materialized. She wondered briefly if it would work again with her inside, but dismissed it. Of course it would.

Hermione walked into the vast, cathedral-ceilinged room and waited for Malfoy to show. She only hoped he wouldn't be late today.

* * *

Malfoy was sitting at the long Slytherin table. He had just finished breakfast, albeit a meagre one, and was preparing for his long Saturday in the Room.

He stood.

"Off to that god forsaken place?" Crabbe muttered.

"Keep you voice down," Malfoy hissed.

"Need us?" Goyle asked.

"No. Stay put. You're both rather useless…" and he left.

The two rather goonish young men looked at one another and shrugged, smiling.

Malfoy spied this, and thought that he definitely made the right call.

Up he went, seven flights of stairs, until he reached the dreaded corridor. He was beginning to view this as a type of prison. It was endless, it was pointless. He was going to die trying to complete this task.

And he was stuck.

That was, perhaps, the most terrifying thing of all.

He reached the wall, and requested that it open for him.

And it did.

Malfoy went inside, turned right, down one aisle, turned left. And at the end of a row of chairs and tables was the cabinet.

It almost seemed like it was laughing at him.

He walked toward the cabinet, his hand gripping his wand. It was a foreboding tableau…

He reached it and looked up, opening the door.

"So you're in here for a cabinet?"

He whirled around, sending a stunning spell and knocking over a pile of chairs, exploding two of them. "What the…?"

Granger had ducked. She cast a shield charm and stood. "What do you want with a cabinet, Malfoy?"

He was breathing hard…she had taken him completely unawares. He swallowed, collecting himself. And now he was trapped. "What are you _doing_ here, Granger?"

She smiled. "I told you why before. Just about a month ago now."

He sighed. "If your brains are half what everyone says they are, you'll leave now."

"Why? Why should I? What's more, I'm a prefect. And as a prefect…"

"You don't get it, do you?" he spat. "Who cares about school rules? Turn me in…" he almost wish she would. It would give him an excuse to stop this madness. "Go on. Go to Dumbledore."

She canted her head. "You mean that, don't you?"

"Of course I do."

She swallowed. "Malfoy…look. Why don't you tell me what's going on here?"

"There is no way in hell I'm telling you anything."

"Fine. But you should probably go to class a bit more often. People will talk…"

He smirked at her, and straightened up, just noticing then how arched his back was. "Do you think I care what those morons out there say? I'm so long past that, Granger. I've got my own problems. If the plebeians will talk, let them. And you can say what you want."

The fact that he sounded so fatalistic was not lost in the reaction her face had. She put the shield charm down, which confused him somewhat…

She lowered her wand, and walked toward him. "You're giving up."

"What in the name of Merlin are you blathering about?"

"You've given up. Or else…" her brow furrowed. "You want to be caught."

He swallowed. "Stay away," he backed up, his wand pointed at her once more.

"No. Malfoy…" she stopped, lowering her voice. "Draco…" and she seemed almost ashamed or embarrassed to use his given name. "You can tell me. And if you don't want to, I understand. But you can't stay so isolated. Not while you're obviously stressed the way you are…" she was concerned that his desperation might get the better of him.

His wand fell to his side, and he felt as though he might cry. He could not _believe_ that he had been thinking of a confidant not last night, and here was Granger, offering herself up as just that.

But he couldn't tell her. Not really. Not everything.

The irony wasn't lost on him. She, a Gryffindor, Muggle-Born…they were opposites. On opposite sides of nearly everything. "I …I've been assigned something."

"Assigned? By whom?"

He cleared his throat and diverted his eyes, which had remained fixed on her. "By my family," he lied.

"Oh?"

He nodded stiffly. It wasn't a complete lie, really. "I need to fix this cabinet."

"You need to fix…"

"The cabinet," he looked at her again. "Yes."

"What for?"

"They need it. It's not for anything that you'd approve of, so don't bother asking what it's for."

She remained silent a moment. "Ok."

"Ok…?" his eyes narrowed.

"Yes. And I can't help you, but I can talk to you. And you can talk to me."

He chuckled. "What exactly are you proposing, Granger?"

She shrugged. "You're obviously alone in all this. Crabbe and Goyle are noticeably absent from your elbow, Pansy Parkinson hasn't looked in your direction in months. At least, not that I've seen. Being alone and stressed is a terrible combination. Besides, your posture is suffering, and you're too young to have a hunchback."

He laughed now, and she noticed it reached his eyes. "You are nothing if not observant. But you haven't told me what your design is in this."

"Well, if you want to talk about something other than this thing, I'll listen. If you need time out of this Room, I'll make myself available."

"You mean…?"

"I'll be a…friend. Sorta."

He could not believe what he was hearing.

She could not believe what she was saying.

"This is absolutely the last thing I'd ever think to hear. That, or that precious Potter was expelled."

She rolled her eyes. "Well?"

It was too good an opportunity to pass up. He could talk to the bookworm, maybe have her do some of his homework, watch Potter and Weasely squirm…The fact that she was Muggle-Born and he'd suffer the ire of his fellow Slytherins didn't fuss him too much. He didn't care about those prats, anyway. "Sure, Granger. You and I can be kind-of friends. As long as you never say the word _friend_ in relation to me to anyone outside of the two of us."

"Good. Let's go, then."

"Go where?" he panicked somewhat.

"Out of this pit of a place. Honestly, you must be sick of it."

He smiled…a genuine thing. Yes. He was sick of it. Malfoy nodded, thinking how truly desperate he must be to agree to go anywhere with Teacher's-Pet-Granger. "All right then."

Hermione smiled to herself. She was going to stop him from doing anything rash, and maybe they'd all be spared from something awful this year. The first in…well. In ever.

The door dematerialized as they left.

"Where are we going?" Malfoy asked. Not that he cared. It felt fantastic to be out of the Room.

"I suppose we could walk on the grounds a bit."

"It's February."

"So? Afraid you'll get cold, Malfoy?"

"Frost bite was never my idea of fun," he returned.

"No. Being unpleasant and annoying was," she countered.

"Oh…but that hasn't changed."

"Good to know that some things don't, no matter how much I may want them to," she headed down further toward the dungeons.

"Ah…as touched as I am that you've thought about me being pleasant and whatever, where are you going?"

"You're getting your cloak, seeing how you don't have it on you," Granger was very matter-of-fact.

"And you do?" he was dumbfounded. Was it stuffed into her overlarge bag of hers?

"Of course I do," she looked back at him. "It's in my bag."

He shook his head. "Girls," he muttered.

"Ok," they reached the bottom and she stopped. "Go on then. I'll wait so you needn't explain my presence to your cronies."

"Doubt you'd be able to make it in, anyway."

"Mudblood proof?" her tone was mutinous.

He hated that he was uncomfortable with that word now…he only used it sparingly. With everything that was happening in his life, worrying about a word really should not fuss him.

But it did.

And he could not account for it.

"No. The door doesn't allow non-Slytherins in. It's fail-safe."

Hermione shrugged and backed into shadow. She waited for a few minutes, wondering if he'd bail. He might…

But no. He came out wrapped in a very luxurious black cloak.

She put her cloak on then.

"Ready?" he asked.

She nodded and followed him.

It felt odd walking with Draco Malfoy. Odd, and not really in a positive way, but not really negative, either. She didn't look at anyone as they walked to the front doors, but she did feel some eyes on her.  
Hermione ignored it.

The air was quite cold, and hung with humidity. It had snowed the night previous, so there was a fresh layer of cold white covering the landscape. It would snow again that afternoon. She breathed out slowly, her breath misting in front of her.

She turned to look at Malfoy.

He had turned to look away as she did.

"Lovely, isn't it?" she offered.

"Mm. If you're a badger. Or maybe an eagle…"

"Not a snake so much?" she smiled, descending the stairs.

"Nor a lion, I'd imagine."

"So you only like the warm weather?"

"No. But I don't much fancy the snow," he followed her, hands in his pockets.

"Why?"

He thought about it. Something about childhood weekends…blood on the perfect white snow…"Bad memories," and as he said it, he was shocked he had told her.

"Oh," she replied softly. "Well, I mostly think it's lovely."

"I gathered that straight away."

They walked out into the grounds, the lake mostly frozen…the air glowed. "It's pleasant to be out and about, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah," and it was. He had been cooped up for two months. He breathed in deeply, feeling heady from it.

"When did you eat last?"

"Breakfast."

"Really?"

"Yes, mother. I ate breakfast."

She smiled. "You appear rather peaked."

He stopped. "If we are going to start insulting…"

She looked at him. "Stop that now. I'm not insulting you. I'm attempting to be concerned."

"Why?"

"Because, Malfoy, I'm trying to be a _friend_ of sorts," she rolled her eyes and continued to walk.

He clamped his mouth shut, but followed her. He really was in no position to argue with the only person he was able to talk to at all. "Right. You'll excuse me. I'm unaccustomed to having real…friends." _Not that I'd call you a friend, Granger._

"Oh tosh. You mean Crabbe and Goyle…?" she smiled.

He snickered. "Well, they have their uses. Mostly for throwing punches and making amusing dumb remarks," he caught up with her. "As I recall, you've got a pretty good swing."

"Yeah…" her head fell. "About that…"

"We don't need to explain how much we hate each other, Granger. It's well documented."

"No. But maybe, with some luck, we can start this story afresh."

He shook his head. She was incredibly naive. "Sure."

They walked around the lake, then back into the shelter of the castle, but staying outside among some of the courtyards. "Have you ever wondered…?"

"Probably."

"You don't know what I was going to ask."

"No…but I've wondered about this place a lot."

"Hogwarts?"

He nodded, looking up into the carved stone archway. "It's ancient. Medieval. It's seen so very much."

"Yeah…" she looked at him crookedly. "But I was going to ask about the founders."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I was thinking about how they were all so very different, but they came together and opened this school. And I was thinking that there has been, in the last…I dunno…century…divisiveness. And how can we ever move beyond it."

He laughed. "Oh, you are funny. You think divisiveness has only happened in the last century? It's always been this way. It's how we…I dunno. Define who we are. By determining who we aren't. You are not pure blood. I am. You are a Gryffindor. I am a Slytherin. It's the way it goes, Granger."

"Maybe. But the first step in changing how things go is likely with friendship," she smiled.

"You want to change the world by becoming friends with me?" he cocked his left brow impressively. "Not impossible, I suppose…"

She laughed.

And he returned it.

And they went inside.

* * *

AN: Two updates today! Mostly because I have finished my school work. Now, I won't be able to update over the week...I work two jobs. Look for updates on weekends. Hoping that this will be about 20-25 chapters, going well into The Deathly Hallows.

Please review!


	4. Of Mudbloods and Mist

It had been three days since Granger had spoken to him, and he idly wondered about it. He also hated that he did. It wasn't as though he didn't have other things on his mind.

He had maneuvered through the halls in a bit of a daze, avoiding the Room at all costs. He needed a break from it.

It wasn't lost on Draco that plenty of people were counting on him to get this thing done. In fact, it grated on him like anything.

His father had done this to him, and Harry Potter had done this to his father.

And Granger was Potter's friend.

He was sitting in the Great Hall, eyeing the Gryffindor table malevolently. He was trying his best to be covert about it, but Crabbe noticed.

"What are you staring at the Gryffin-dicks for?"

Malfoy's gaze immediately fell. "Just thinking."

Crabbe chuckled.

"Sorry? Something funny?" Malfoy sneered.

"No," but a ghost of a grin remained on his face.

"Didn't think so," and he got up from the table and left.

He walked out into the cold, hands shoved in his pockets. It was a bright day, the sun hanging low in the sky, and there was a soft glow from the rays illuminating the clouds and casting orange hues through the air.

Malfoy was not immune to the beauty of it all. He put on a front, but in essence, he was sensitive and easily moved.

Often this trait was confused with cowardice.

Though he could not claim to be brave in the strictest of senses, he certainly was not a coward.

His breath misted before him as he trudged through the undisturbed snow.

He walked up to a large oak tree and leaned against it.

He felt like such a tool.

He had a long history of feeling this way…used by family, used by friends. If he truly had any. All Crabbe and Goyle cared about was his surname.

Malfoy sighed, thinking about the cabinet in the Room, and hating it. He'd been studying voraciously, trying to get as much information as possible in magical transportation of objects. He'd learned more than he had thought he would, but not nearly enough; so, he'd taken to studying healing spells, since he was certain that they'd be coming after him if he didn't figure it out soon.

He'd even studied magical concealment, where he had a getaway bag stowed.

If nothing else, he'd become a proficient wizard.

He had homework to do, and thought that he'd best get at least some of it done. He had been hoping that Granger might help, but she had ghosted him, apparently.

Stupid Mudblood.

And stupid Malfoy for believing her…for maybe hoping that she had been sincere.

He turned to go back to the Slytherin Common Room…he couldn't bear to be alone in his room, staring at the ceiling from his four-poster. It was just too depressing.

So he left the tree, and walked back to the castle.

* * *

"Hermione, can you read this for me and tell me if it makes sense?"

She sighed and held her hand out to Ron.

He sat back in the sofa and looked at her. "You've been quiet lately. What's going on?"

"Hm?" she marked something on the page and looked up at him. "On?"

"Yeah. How come you've been so…I dunno…distracted?"

She swallowed. Of course Ron would notice. Just when she wrote him off as an arrogant arse. "Well, I've been bogged down with homework. And I'm thinking about N.E.W.T.s."

"What for? That's over a year away!"

"Yes but they're the most important exams we'll ever sit. And everything from fifth year on will be part of them. So…" she handed him his paper back. "I'm preparing."

Ron shook his head. "You're something, Hermione."

"Yeah, well. So are you, Ron," she smiled.

She hadn't said anything to Harry or Ron about Malfoy, but she started to think that it was making her a liar, and that she could not abide. So, she had avoided said Slytherin since their walk in the snow.

And now she was feeling guilty about that.

Ginny had said that Harry had a blind spot when it came to Malfoy, and it wouldn't do to tell him anything until she knew exactly what was going on.

Trouble was, Hermione didn't know if she'd _ever_ know exactly what was going on, and she had a feeling that time was of the essence. "Ron?"

"Yeah?" he was glancing in Lavender's direction, an odd look on his face.

"Is it lying, do you think, if you're omitting information to spare someone stress?"

And now he looked at her. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Well, actually, it's Harry that I'm concerned about."

"Harry?"

"Yes…I mean…" she swallowed. She shouldn't have said anything. "Never mind."

"Hermione Granger, what is going on?"

"Well…" she cleared her throat. "I might know something about Malfoy."

"Malfoy?"

"Yes. But I'm afraid that if I tell Harry, he'll muck it all up."

Ron's face contorted in confusion. "I don't…"

"He _is_ up to something…but I don't know what it is. And…" she dropped her gaze. "And I might've talked to him, and offered to be his…" she searched for the right word. "Confidant."

"His confidant."

She nodded.

"And what does that entail?"

"Just…you know. Listening to him."

"You do know that his father tried to kill Harry?"

She shrugged.

"And that his dad is a Death Eater."

She blanched.

"And he's called you 'Mudblood' more times than I can count."

Hermione smirked. "So…what? Ten, then?"

"Not funny."

"Oh, come on. It was a little bit funny."

Ron rubbed his face. "What are your plans?"

"I dunno. Try and get him to talk."

"And you think that _you_ can do that?"

Did she? "I'm not sure. But I want to try."

"Hermione…"

"Ron, look. I'm convinced that he's up to something. I'm also sure he's getting desperate. Now, if those things are true, then he could be dangerous…but I don't have _proof_, so going to McGonagall or Dumbledore just isn't in the cards yet. And letting Harry in on it would be disastrous…so…please don't tell him."

"You're asking me to keep this from Harry?"

She swallowed. "Well, we've done it before."

"But this is _different,_ Hermione! You could be in danger!"

"Look. I'm playing it cool. I haven't spoken to him in three days. I'm being careful."

"How many conversations have you had with him?"

She thought a moment. "Maybe four? But only the most recent one was very long or involved."

He shook his head. "I'm giving you a month. After that…I'm not making any promises. And I want to know when you're going to speak with him," he paused. "And I want to know what he says."

She sighed. "All right Ron. But you should really give me more credit. I can do this without a chaperone."

* * *

Saturday morning dawned a bit warmer. It was still rather cold, but as March loomed, so did the spring.

Hermione got up early and looked out into the foggy air. She thought that it must be balmy out, because the fog was so thick that she could barely see grounds.

She got a shower and dressed, tying her hair up in a bun at the base of her neck, and left the dorm. Her coat was heavy, and it dragged her shoulders down with it.

Out the huge front doors she went, breathing deeply and thinking of warm tea and breakfast. She walked, wrapping her arms around her, watching the moisture from the ground evaporate into the air, turning into the dense fog around her, clinging to her face.

"Well well. If it isn't the truant friend," drawled a voice some meters in front of her.

Draco Malfoy emerged from the mist, a smirk playing on his face.

"Hey, Malfoy," she casually replied.

"That's all?" he stopped in front of her.

"Ah…how's things?"

"Things? Like you care."

Hermione's face betrayed her. Was he hurt? "Sorry…I must be missing something."

"No. Not at all. But I must confess, if your friendship is always like this, it's astonishing that you've managed to keep any," and he brushed passed her.

She turned, following him. "Excuse me, but what are you on about?"

"Nothing."

"You're upset."

"I'm not."

"Don't play with me, Malfoy. I may not be an expert, but I can tell when someone is upset," she took his elbow.

"Don't touch me, Mudblood!" and as the word slipped from his lips, he cringed at the taste.

Hermione jerked her hand away…"Sorry. My mistake. I thought that you had moved beyond this."

He turned to face her. "Ya well."

"How are we supposed to be civil if you're going to call me foul names?"

"This is all your idea, Granger. I never said I wanted any of this."

"Don't you?"

She watched him swallow. "It's up to you," his voice held resignation. "I can't care anymore."

"You're numb," she whispered.

"I'm a Malfoy," he replied, and there was a shadow which passed his visage.

Now Hermione's face fell, her eyes with it. "Right. Why don't we come out of the cold?"

He appeared to waver. "Where do we go?"

She thought for the briefest of moments…"The library," and she turned, returning to the castle.

They were sitting in a cove by a window at the far end of the library. Hermione had often sat in this spot, mostly when she was reading for the fun of it and not for homework. Although it was secluded, it wasn't near anything, really…no books, no tables…just the window seat. It was a large thing, big enough for at least three people, so she could stretch her legs when she was by herself.

Now, she and Malfoy were at opposite ends of the seat.

"You come here often," he observed.

"The seat or the library?"

"Both, I guess."

"Mm…I've sat here a bit. Not a lot."

He nodded, and looked out the window. "Why are you doing this, Granger?"

"Because I'm afraid for you and what you might be doing," she answered truthfully.

He shook his head. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Sure. Tell me something about your childhood."

He rolled his eyes. "Really?"

"You asked," she smirked.

He cleared his throat. "I grew up wealthy to pureblood parents. The end."

Hermione chuckled. "Tell me something I _don't _know."

Malfoy sighed, running his hand through his hair. "I remember going to Northern Ireland when I was about six…maybe ten years ago now. We went to visit my mother's friend from Hogwarts…and they were so happy to see each other. We walked along moors and I ran with sheep up a hill.

Her husband was…" he swallowed and he looked at his hands. "…was Muggle-born. Father was barely civil to him. He only tolerated him because of my mother. I remember liking him. When we left, I asked when we'd be back. I loved the place…it was beautiful and serene. There were stonewalls, ruins, and farmland."

Hermione was transfixed. "What happened?"

Malfoy looked at her. "He told me to mind my effing business. He told me that they were filthy, and we wouldn't be back. Mother told me later that she'd take me back one day…"

Her eyes were wide. "What was the place called?"

He smiled slightly. "Castlerock."

"And you never went back?"

"No," he said softly.

"Malfoy, do you hate Muggle-borns?"

He smiled, then looked at her. "I have no idea."

"No?"

"I'm supposed to say _yes. _I'm supposed to hate them all, including you. And Mr Gilliard. And you all are supposed to be thieves, so you should be prosecuted, if not executed."

The flippant manner in which he stated these things made her blood run cold. "And…" she swallowed. "And you believe all of this? You think I should be executed?"

He looked at her…his grey eyes stormy as he did, the late morning sun feathering his stark features. "What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to say that you disagree," she breathed. "That you don't think that I stole my magic. That I'm a person…and that you…I dunno…that you wouldn't want that to happen to me."

He smirked at her. "Whatever you just said, Granger."

Her head fell back. "Well, if it makes you feel better, I don't think that you're evil, despite what my friends say. I think that you're pretty interesting. And, despite everything, I kinda like spending time with you."

He stared at her. "Hungry?"

"What?"

"I'm famished," he stood.

And she did, too.


	5. Stew

She followed him into the great hall, painfully aware of the situation…her, following Malfoy, into the dining hall. Most people would notice, and wonder at it.

She kept a bit of a distance, a couple of steps behind. And he wasn't really looking back, perhaps because he was aware of the odd situation, too.

Hermione swallowed, and slowed down, eyeing the Gryffindor table.

Harry was looking at her, and she dropped her gaze.

It was at that point that Malfoy turned. He looked at her, saw her expression, and turned to join the Slytherins.

Breakfast was bustling.

She made her way over to the table and sat next to Harry. "Morning," she said.

"Hey…you know, if I didn't know better, I'd say that you just walked in with Malfoy," Harry scoffed a bit.

She laughed, but felt Ron's eyes on her. "Don't be ridiculous," she took a plate. "I'm starving."

"I was at Dumbledore's last night."

"That's right! What did he say?" she took a bite of toast.

"I'll tell you later in the tower…but he's not pleased with me not getting my homework done."

She nodded, offering a slight scowl. "It's really important, Harry. He wouldn't have set this task to you if…"

"I _know_ Hermione."

She said nothing further.

"So, wanna hit the pitch later?" asked Ron, finishing breakfast.

Harry appeared to be deep in thought. "Maybe."

Ron swallowed, then looked at Hermione. "Let's go…I wanted to ask you a few things about Potions," and he stood.

She took the hint, and got up, taking some toast and a clementine with her.

Ron led her outside into a portico, and looked out into the lake. "You were with him, weren't you?"

"Yes," she shoved her hands into the pockets of her cloak, along with the fruit…tossing the toast for the birds. She suddenly wasn't so hungry.

"I thought I asked you to tell me beforehand."

"It was an accidental meeting."

He huffed. "What did you talk about?"

"Northern Ireland."

"Northern Ireland," he repeated.

"That's right."

"What in bloody hell were you talking about that for?"

"He…" she looked at him now. "He had visited when he was younger. And we were talking about it."

Ron appeared to be less than moved.

"Look," Hermione continued. "I know that you are…not happy about all of this. But you and I are friends, Ron, nothing more. And I'd like for you to trust me."

"Nothing more…" he began, aghast.

"I'm going in. We have homework," and she turned, leaving him there.

* * *

Malfoy was sitting in his room, trying to do some homework. It was an exercise in futility. The Room was always there.

He sighed…and thought about his grades. They weren't great, but better than they had been. He'd been avoiding the Room, as well as everyone else. So, he had time on his hands.

He finished up a paper he was working on for Transfiguration and got up. It was mid afternoon. He could go back and work on things…

…and there was a knock at the door. That was odd. "Come in…?"

It was Pansy. "Hey," she sauntered.

"Hey," and he offered a slight smile.

"You've been pretty distant, lately. What's going on?"

"On?"

She gave him a look…"Yes, Draco. On. Where are you going all the time?"

He cleared his throat. "I told you. I have things to do."

"I had thought that we were…"

"We aren't."

She glared. "Fine. I guess that night then…"

And he closed his eyes. One night. That's all it was. Because he didn't want to die a virgin. "That's all it was," he finished.

She looked only slightly hurt. "Your family's owl brought this," and she handed him a parchment.

He nodded, taking it from her. "Thanks," he said softly.

And she turned, without looking at him, and left.

Malfoy unrolled the parchment and read:

_In six weeks._

_Be ready._

He swallowed, and a panic rose in his chest. Six weeks. In a way, that was plenty of time.

If he had a clue what he was doing.

He looked at his calendar.

February twenty eighth.

They were looking at mid-April.

He ran his hands through his hair and left the dorm. He'd have to hurry.

* * *

Hermione's week was going mostly fine. She pestered Harry but little…she figured he understood the dire situation as much as she did. After he told her that Dumbledore wouldn't meet with him until he procured the memory, she assumed that was reason enough for him to get working on it. And she'd bothered him enough already.

And she hadn't seen Malfoy.

That bothered her somewhat. If he wasn't in the dining hall at regular meals, that could mean only one thing.

He was in the Room of Requirement.

Since it was Friday, she thought that maybe she'd seek him out. It had been almost a week since she'd seen him.

"Where you going?" Ron came up from behind her as she made her way out of the portrait hole.

"I'm…going to find him," best tell the truth.

"Why?"

"Because I haven't seen him in a week which means he might be nearing the end of whatever he's planning."

He didn't climb after her. He just stared. "I haven't told Harry."

Hermione nodded.

"And I still want to know what you talk about."

She smiled. "If I find him," and she turned, leaving Ron there…

Hermione didn't know if Malfoy would be in the Room now, but it was worth a look. She headed to the seventh floor.

It was later in the day, after dinner now. Most of the students were hanging about in their common rooms, spending their evening playing games and avoiding homework.

She walked up to the blank wall and muttered, "I need the place where everything is hidden…" and the door materialized.

And she walked in.

Hermione was quiet, though she wasn't being intentional about it…the cavernous feel to the place was subdued by the sheer amount of stuff. And she walked down, until she had to turn left…

And she saw him, slumped on the floor. "Malfoy?" she said.

He didn't move.

Hermione hurried to his side…knelt in front of him. "Malfoy!" she was urgent now.

He opened his eyes.

It was then that true panic rose inside of her.

He was gaunt, more than usual. His eyes were vacant, bloodshot. His face was sunken…"For the love of Merlin, Malfoy! When was the last time you ate?"

He licked his cracked lips. "Where are Crabbe and Goyle?" his voice was a whisper.

"Not …I'm not sure," and she pulled her wand out, took his jaw, and tilted his head back. "Aquamenti," she said, and a stream of water poured from the tip. He drank, then pulled away. "How long have you been in here?"

"What day is it?"

"Friday night," she breathed.

"Since Wednesday night."

"Wednesday. And you haven't eaten anything? No water, either?"

"Crabbe and Goyle have brought things…but not since…last evening," and he laid down on the floor.

Hermione shook her head. Some friends they were. "No, come on. I'll take you to the kitchens. We need to get some food into you," and she pulled on his arm, then hoisted him to his feet.

"I can't…I need to…"

"You need to _eat_. Stop your fussing," and she wrapped his arm around her shoulder and led him out, down the stairs.

He wanted to make a snarky comment. He wanted to pull away from her. His mind demanded that he did. But he couldn't.

And not just because he was sick and weak from hunger, thirst, lack of sleep, and anxiety.

He couldn't because it felt good to be taken care of. To have someone care.

She looked over at him, his hair falling in his face. He really did look awful. "Are you going to be sick?"

He shook his head.

And she gingerly led him down the staircases.

_It's March…_He was thinking. _March_. He hadn't heard from his parents since the owl a few days ago. He felt abandoned…even though he had _wanted_ autonomy, he hadn't _needed_ it.

He was living half of a life, because he was consumed. Obsession was like living a half-life, because nothing mattered but that one thing while you obsessed over it.

Hermione opened the door to the kitchens, just past the painting of the pear, and brought him in with her. "Hello? Help us, please?"

And about seven house elves scampered up to them. "Ooohhh…Miss! What is wrong with the young man?" one exclaimed.

"He needs food and water," she said, lowering Malfoy onto a stool, wishing that there was something with a back to it.

"Right away, Miss, right away…"

She let go of him finally, and pulled another stool up. And then she remembered, she could transfigure the stool for him! So she pulled out her wand and waved it, making the simple stool into more of a kitchen bar one. She smiled as Malfoy leaned back into it. "Better?" she asked.

He nodded. "You could have left me there, Granger."

"And what kind of friend would do that?"

"Is that what we are?"

"Isn't that what we said?"

Malfoy didn't answer right away. "Not sure. You certainly wanted to get away from me quickly last week…"

She paled a bit, and the food came.

Stew, bread, water…butter beer. "Thank you so much," she said. "Is Dobby here?" Hermione looked around.

"Dobby is in the dormitories, Miss. Dobby likes to see Harry Potter when Dobby can, Miss."

She nodded, not looking at Malfoy, who had begun to eat the stew. She took her wand and moved him close to the counter, then scooted her own stool over.

"Are you wanting some, too, Miss?" the elf squeaked.

"Oh, no. I'm fine."

"A mug, though? For some butter beer?" and other handed her a mug. She shrugged and poured herself some. "Thank you for everything," she said, then looked over at Malfoy.

He was eating a piece of bread.

"Is the young Master needing anything else?"

Malfoy looked at the elf, with his wide, protuberant eyes, watching him anxiously. He swallowed. "No, thank you."

Hermione let out a small breath. She had been worried that he'd be rude to the elves…but he needed to eat.

The elf bowed, then left.

Hermione's gaze dropped, and she sipped the butter beer. She thought she'd wait for him to be sated.

But Malfoy said, "Thank you for bringing me here."

She looked at him, and smiled. "You're welcome."

He sat back and downed the water. "Come here often?" he smirked.

"No…just a couple of times."

"It could be a bit more atmospheric."

"It's a _kitchen, _Malfoy."

"So? Kitchens don't need to be boring." She laughed, and was pleased to see a genuine smile on his face. He turned toward the expanse of the room, looking around. "It needs…different lighting. Fresh paint. Some decorative glass…" he stood, and waved his wand.

"Malfoy…you probably shouldn't…"

"Shh…" he hissed. And he changed the lighting to be brighter in the center, dimmer along the periphery. The color on the walls became cream colored, as opposed to stark white. And shelves appeared with bright glass orbs and pitchers. "There. That's better."

"What did you do that for?" she was looking around. It _did_ look better.

"Young Master! What is you doing, Sir?"

"It was a grimy place. This is Hogwarts. You should be working in a more suitable environment."

The elf simply bowed and hurried off to his fellows.

Hermione was dumbfounded. Malfoy seemed genuinely happy…happy doing something for someone else. This was not how she knew him…maybe, just maybe, he was changing. "It looks really nice, Malfoy. That's impressive magic."

He shrugged. "Sometimes I'm impressive," he almost said something else, something like _that's not the only thing impressive about me_. But that sounded suggestive. And that was definitely not how he wanted to sound to Hermione Granger. Had she been a Slytherin, he probably would've. He sat back down and moved a tallish, but small, table over to them, placing it between them both.

"A few months ago you would have said something else. And you certainly would not have done what you just did."

He looked at her. "What are you saying?"

"Nothing," she smiled. "Just that…I dunno. Nothing," she was loathe to spoil this. "You've got smashing taste, I must say. Quite an eye."

"Mother has always wanted to change up the manor. Father has been reluctant. It's been in the family for generations…but she's told me some of the things that she'd do," he looked away. "I've listened."

She took note of the faraway look on his face. She shook herself out of it. "Have some butter beer, Malfoy," and she poured him some.

He took it and sipped without a word, swallowing the drink. And then he said something that even he couldn't believe. "What's your home like?"

Her mouth fell open. "My…?"

He looked at her. "Your home, Granger. You have one, don't you?"

"I …" she smiled. "Yes of course I do."

"Well?"

"Do you mean my house or my family?"

"Both, I suppose."

"Ah…well," she wrapped her fingers around her mug. "My parents…they're dentists."

"They're what, now?"

"Dentists. They tend to people's teeth."

He looked at her own teeth, recalling now how different they looked from when they were younger. "Did they fix yours, then?"

"Ah, no. Recall that hex you sent at me fourth year?"

He nodded slowly.

"Well, Madam Pomfrey fixed them…" she stopped, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "Anyway. They do well enough, and we're able to travel occasionally. It's not a terribly big house…but it's nicely situated. Bright. Sometimes too bright," she added softly.

"What do you mean 'too bright'?"

"Well, I suppose I'm drawn a bit to the dim of the castle. Mum likes it airy. And so do I, but maybe a balance…"

He was looking at her steadily. "Where is your house?"

And she looked up. Something like hesitance crept inside her mind. "Hampstead." And that was true, but she wasn't about to divulge beyond that.

Malfoy nodded, taking another sip. "Are you close with them? Your parents?"

"Y-yes. I suppose so," she swallowed. "Are you?"

His eyes snapped to hers, and for a moment she was sorry she had asked. "Am I close with my parents," he replied. "I used to be."

"Oh," was all she could think to say.

He sat back. "I'm tired."

"I should think so."

He swallowed. "How're things with the Boy-Who-Does-No-Wrong?"

"I'm not discussing Harry with you."

"Not Weasel-bee, either?" he smirked.

"No."

"Do they know you're cavorting with the enemy?"

"Ron does."

"What's he think?"

Her jaw set. "Do Crabbe and Goyle know that you're speaking with a Mudblood?"

He winced a bit…and she took note. "No," he said softly.

"Well then," her tone indicated that the conversation was finished.

"You're no fun, Granger."

"What's that mean?"

"Fun. I used to have fun. Before all of this…" he gesticulated.

"What did you do for fun? Eat babies?"

He laughed. "Roasted ones are quite good, you know."

And she returned his laugh.

"But I suppose we used to laugh about silly things. Stuff that may or may not be funny anymore."

"What do you mean? Like how dirty my blood is?"

He shrugged. "We only took bets occasionally."

Hermione had to laugh again, because she knew he was kidding…or she seriously hoped so. "What if Sunday we do something fun? You and I?"

He swallowed, looking at her steadily. "Like…what?"

"Well, I dunno. we could…" what could they do? They'd need to be careful…she honestly didn't want all sorts of people to know she was spending time with Draco Malfoy. Besides, she had an endgame. And she was trying to keep him away from that Room as much as possible. Then it came to her. "What if we went to the Room of Requirement…"

"Are you mental?"

"No wait…what if we went there, and just…asked it for things? See what it comes up with?"

His eyes narrowed.

"Look. It's actually a fascinating thing. And you've only been in maybe one or two iterations…there might be _thousands._"

He finally shrugged. "Ok. Meet me there after dinner," he stood. "I'm exhausted, Granger. I'll see you Sunday."

She nodded. "Night, Malfoy."

And she brought the dishes over to the house elves, while they bowed her out of the kitchen.

And she avoided thinking about how much she was looking forward to Sunday.


	6. Draco's Room

Hermione scribbled some more onto the parchment, blowing a curl from her face. She had gotten most of her homework done…

It was almost seven, Sunday evening. She had eaten early so she could obtain a seat in the common room and finish her homework.

Harry and Ron were still in the Great Hall, which she was glad of. She was rather hoping to sneak out before they got back.

After she returned on Friday she had answered Ron's questions about Malfoy, and was only slightly annoyed. She had a feeling that if he knew that she was going out again, meeting him, he'd be more than unhappy. And he might tell Harry.

She still believed that Harry knowing about this was decidedly not good.

And she wondered at Ron knowing now…had she been too quick to tell him? Still, keeping secrets from friends was probably ill advised. She wouldn't appreciate it if they kept things from her. And she felt a slight pang of guilt.

Hermione turned when she heard the portrait door swing open.

Ginny came in, looking glum.

"Hey, Ginny!" she stood, gathering her things.

"What's up?"

"Do me a favor," she went over to her, ready to bring her things upstairs.

"Ok…?" her brow furrowed.

"If you see Ron or Harry, tell them I went to bed."

"You went to bed," Ginny repeated.

"Yeah. I've got to go out for a bit, won't be too long."

She shrugged. "All right," and she went to sit by the fire.

"Everything ok?"

Ginny nodded. "Fine."

Hermione almost went to talk to her, but stopped herself and ran up the stairs. She dropped her books on her desk, grabbed a sweater, pulled it on over her head, and headed out, hoping desperately that she wouldn't run into her friends.

She hurried through down the tower and to the stairs up to the seventh floor.

Hermione felt the air burning her lungs as she ran up the stairs…until she finally made it to the Room.

He wasn't there.

She had seen him at dinner earlier…

So, she leaned against the wall and waited.

"Fancy seeing you here," came a voice to her right.

Malfoy was emerging from shadows, the smirk she pretty much hated playing on his face.

"I heard it's the place to be."

He stopped next to her, his hands in his pockets, and looked at the wall. "Any ideas?"

"A few."

"Ladies first," he motioned for her to go ahead of him.

"Ok," she breathed, and walked toward the wall. "I need a place to sit in the sun. I need a place to sit in the sun. I need a place to sit in the sun…"

And a door appeared on the wall.

"Ready?" she asked him.

He shrugged and followed her.

Hermione pulled the door open, and she felt a warm breeze brush her face. She breathed, and honeysuckle and lilies filled her nose…she smiled, and walked in.

The grass was tall, the sun high in the sky, obscured a bit by clouds. There was an oak tree just ahead, and a garden path leading to it. She noticed a bench there, situated under the tree in its shade. "Come on," she said, leading him to the bench.

She sat, looking out at the expanse.

"This is a pretty big room," Malfoy said, sitting next to her.

"I wanted to see if it would provide the outdoors. Because maybe we could see the pyramids, or…I dunno…"

"I doubt it. You don't _need_ to see the pyramids, Granger. But, judging from the pallor of your skin, you could use some sun," he smiled.

"Look who's talking!"

Malfoy smiled and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. "I thought you liked the dim."

"I do. But after so much winter, I rather missed the spring sun."

"Do you think we need to leave the room for it to change?"

"I'm not sure. I guess it makes sense that we do," she looked up, the sun's rays were feathering through the leaves, creating an iridescent glow. "What do you think of this place, Malfoy?"

"It's nice."

"Nice."

He nodded, then turned to look at her. "Yes. But somewhat boring."

"Boring?!"

He laughed and sat up, breathing deeply and then looking at her. "I rather thought you'd ask for something more…specific."

"Sitting in the spring sun isn't specific?"

"Not really."

"What's your idea, then?"

He grinned widely. "I thought you'd never ask," and he stood, turned, and walked back up the path.

They walked out the door and it disappeared. Malfoy looked at her and winked.

She swallowed.

"I need a place with five hundred books, candlelight, a fireplace with a fire, and cozy chairs…" he repeated this three times, and the door appeared.

Hermione's face appeared rather shocked, but she went in after him.

The room wasn't very big. It had grey damask wallpaper…there were large, red cushioned chairs with an enormous fireplace and a roaring fire. On every wall were books. Hermione's hand went to her mouth as she scanned the room.

Malfoy went to a shelf and pulled a volume. "_Edith's Book of England's Fairies, _well, it's something," and he put it back. "Aristotle, Faulkner, some potions books…"

Hermione walked to a shelf, and ran the tip of her finger along the spines of the books. "Amazing," she breathed, and pulled a large tome from the shelf. "_Charms in the Face of Fear._" She took it to the chair and sat down.

Malfoy took a few and sat across from her, and began to page through _On the Soul_. It gave him some pause to read about souls, seeing as how his was in mortal danger…

But that night was not about thinking about his future, because for all he knew, he had none. Tonight was about being happy. About…being with a friend…one of the only, if not _the_ only, friend he had. He couldn't believe it…even now, when he looked up at her…that he was considering Hermione Granger his friend. Of all the ironies in the universe, this would not have been his guess.

Yet it remained, and there she was. And as he studied her, she looked up. "You did this for me?"

He swallowed. "Well, _for_ you might be pushing it a bit, Granger. I did it with you in mind, though," he looked back at his book. "I enjoy books a lot. Not as much as some people," he smirked. "But yes," he looked at her once more. "Reading was something I've appreciated most of my life. More recently even more."

Hermione's breath slowed. _More recently even more. _"Why more recently?" she asked, with as much indifference as she could muster.

"I've needed to increase it a bit. For a few reasons."

She nodded, wondering if she should press it. It was a hint about what he was doing…but she decided not to. He might get suspicious. If she had learned anything about Malfoy during the past month or so, it was that he was more intelligent than she had heretofore believed. She had always recognized him as cunning, but true intelligence she never saw, or perhaps, refused to see. Now it was different. His ruthlessness had either waned, or it had always been a front. And to press him on this…to step closer to the truth about what he was up to with that cabinet, it was too dangerous to risk just yet. He'd need to offer the information willingly to her. That was the only way she'd ever know for certain.

"What?" he smiled. "Think I'm handsome, Granger?"

"Hm? What?" she snapped herself out of her reverie.

"You're staring."

"Oh…sorry…" she shook her head. "Just thinking."

"S'okay," and he meant it. He really hadn't minded her losing her thought while looking at him. And for a moment, for the briefest breath of time, he enjoyed it.

And that gave him pause.

He went back to Aristotle…his pulse quickening ever so slightly.

And she went to read the charms book, reading it, but also thinking about what just happened…

After a fashion, Malfoy snapped the book shut. "Well? Wanna try another room?"

Hermione looked at him, a bit dazed from reading one hundred pages. "Ah…" she smiled. "Not really…?"

He laughed. "Like it that much, hm?"

"It's rather wonderful, Malfoy. I'm quite impressed."

He sat back. "You've said that twice to me over the weekend now. You really must not have thought much of me."

"What? That I've been impressed?"

He nodded.

"To be honest, I didn't _know_ you. And my interactions with you have been…well…"

"Arse?"

She laughed. "Yeah."

He nodded, and traced the armchair with his finger…"I've been a sodding prick. I know it."

"You do?"

He looked at her. "I'm still a sodding prick."

She canted her head, pondering what he said. "No…but you're still an arse."

"Fair enough."

Hermione swallowed. "I don't believe that anyone is wholly bad, Malfoy. I really don't. I think we all _can_ be evil. And we all _can_ be good. It's just a matter of circumstance, and some character."

"So if I had been…what? A Muggle-born?…I might not have been an arse?" he smirked.

Her face fell somewhat. "You said Muggle-born."

"So?"

"So?! You didn't say Mudblood."

He shrugged. "In case you haven't noticed, I really haven't said it lately."

Perhaps she hadn't noticed. "Sorry. Maybe I haven't. Anyway…" she shook her head, collecting her thoughts. "It's impossible to tell what specific factors determine who we are. It's likely a cocktail of facets. But at its base, yes. If you hadn't been a pure blood, then maybe you'd be very different."

"Probably wouldn't have been in Slytherin."

"Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves," she smiled.

He rested the tip of his finger on the edge of the armrest. "What do you want out of life, Granger?"

"Ah…" she looked at the ceiling. She smiled. "Um…well…I suppose I'd like to do something meaningful. To you know, help people. Or help…something. Other than that, I've got no fixed plans."

"No family?"

"I don't really consider it much."

"Weasel-bee will be broken hearted," he smirked.

She shook her head and raised her eyebrows. "You? What do you want?"

He swallowed, looking at the armrest with the tip of his finger there. He snatched it away, folding his hands. "I can't think about that."

"What? Why not? Everyone does."

"Not me, Hermione," and he looked at her.

…and she was struck, because it was the first time he had said her given name. Her heart sped up. "Sorry…? I don't…"

But his head was in his hands, and his elbows were on his knees.

"Malfoy…?" she breathed. She then went over to him and knelt at his feet…she hesitated a moment, but then took her hands and lifted them to his own, gently pulling his hands away from his face.

She wasn't sure what she expected to see…tears, maybe. But she didn't. It was just pain.

So. Much. Pain.

"What's wrong?" she asked softly.

He looked away from her…and sat back. He stared at his hands, palm-up, on his lap. "I can't tell you."

"Why?"

"I can't tell anyone."

"But…"

"Look," and his voice had changed. He sounded…not angry, but curt. "If I tell you, then you'd know. And if you knew, you'd be in danger. And Merlin help me…but I don't want that."

She stared at him. He just admitted to caring about her. "I …" she swallowed. "I care about you, too, Malfoy."

"I didn't say that…"

"You as good as did. And because I care, seeing you like this…" she shook her head, her brow in tiny knots. "It hurts me, too."

He let out a staggering breath, his eyes never leaving her face. "I'll tell you. But not now. It's too soon…"

"When?"

"I'm not sure."

She looked at him, perhaps seeing him differently for the first time. His stormy eyes churning, his sharp features dulled with whatever was paining him…"Ok."

He nodded, looking down again. "Well," he slapped his hands on his thighs. "Had enough, then?" he smiled a bit at her.

"No…I …" and she suddenly felt compelled, and she wasn't sure why…but Hermione sat up from her position and wrapped her arms around his neck. Maybe it was because she felt like he needed a hug. Maybe it was because she wanted to. Maybe because he had thought of this place with her in mind.

Or maybe because he had called her by her name.

…and Malfoy, for his part, didn't know what to do. He was shocked, to be sure. He clumsily put his hands on her back…somewhat uncomfortable, somewhat pleased. "Now, Granger, I'm all right and so are you," he pulled away, and she followed, putting her hands on the armrests to look at him.

"You're not ok. But…" she smiled, and a tear fell down her cheek. "You will be."

He hesitated, then took his thumb and brushed the tear away. "Call me Draco, hm?"

She nodded, and stood, holding her hand out to him.

He took it and rose.

"So, Draco. It's my turn, then…"

And she led him out the door.


	7. Two Rooms

"Ok," she said, standing outside the door, and making sure no one was around. She closed her eyes. "I need a swing set, by a stream, a warm summer day, with trees around and clouds in the sky…" she repeated her request three times.

When she opened them, a door was in front of them. "Ready?"

Draco nodded, and she led them to the door, opening it.

Sunlight hit her in the face, and she raised her arm to shield her eyes. "I _did_ ask for clouds."

"Just there," he said, pulling the door closed behind him, taking her elbow and leading her through, pointing at the sky.

Hermione looked up and saw them…they were peppered throughout, and low hanging. She smiled. "Look! Swings!" and she ran down a smallish slope toward the swing set. She jumped on one, and started to pump her legs. It felt wonderful…the exercise, the air…she looked at Draco, who had just gotten on the swing next to her.

"I haven't been on a swing in years," he said as he started to swing.

She laughed, leaning back and feeling the sun on her face. She felt suddenly free…free from worry, from school, from the looming war…she swallowed and slowed a bit, recalling what had prompted her to start all of this.

But she didn't want to spoil it. Talking about whatever he was up to…it made him sick. She saw it in his face not twenty minutes ago. He was torn up inside…maybe he didn't _want_ to do it. Maybe he was under duress.

This comforted her somewhat.

It also terrified her.

She stopped and got off, walking over to the stream. Hermione sat on the bank and took her shoes and socks off, putting her feet into the cool, laughing water.

She felt him approaching her, then watched as he sat on the grass next to her. He was staring at the water…the shade of the trees overhead blanketed his face in shadow.

"What's up?" she asked.

"I was just thinking that we can't be ourselves with others around."

"What do you mean?"

He looked at her. "I mean that…that I need to do things. Things I may not want to do, things I may never have wanted to do, but it doesn't change what must be done. And you have your side. And they hate me. So, we need to pretend like this doesn't happen. That our friendship doesn't exist."

She nodded, her mouth very dry. "I see what you mean."

"How do you feel about that, Hermione?"

She couldn't answer that just then, so she diverted. "Do you hate my friends?"

He looked at her very deliberately. "I …" then he looked at the water. "I don't know."

"Well, that's something, I guess."

He chuckled, then looked at her again. "We are ignoring truths for temporary happiness. Or I am, at least," he looked at her and winked. "It's a quote."

"Are you happy, Draco?"

"No."

Her eyes narrowed.

He laughed. "Well, I've not been before, so I don't rightly know."

She sighed, and looked at her feet in the water. "I think that if you look at this the right way, it needn't be …what? Sad? It could be a secret. And as long as it doesn't go on indefinitely, it might be fun," she looked at him again and smiled. "Take your shoes and socks off."

His eyes went wide. "While I can't say I'm not at all used to be ordered by a girl to take my clothes off, shoes and socks aren't usually what they say."

She laughed. "Stop it and stick your feet in the water," she rolled her jeans up and stood, kicking the water around, feeling the soft earth under her feet. She laughed to herself, remembering having done this as a young girl.

…and Draco watched her. And he was jealous of her insouciant air. He felt the pull of what he was and his task looming with every tick of the clock he couldn't see. "Hermione," he said softly.

And she turned. "Yeah?"

He wanted to tell her he didn't want to leave. He wanted to tell her to go, tell everyone out there that he was dead, or he ran away, or that he was here, in this place, and wasn't coming out again. "Nothing. It's just…I think it's probably getting late."

"Oh…" and she couldn't mask her disappointment. "Right," she stepped out of the water. She had hoped that there'd be a bit more laughter.

And then it came to her. A wry grin slid across her face…and she jumped back in the water and kicked some right at Draco.

"Hey!" he yelled, wiping his face. "I'm all sodding wet!"

"That's the point, isn't it?" she laughed.

"You'll pay, Granger…" and he gave her chase.

Hermione squealed and jumped out of the brook, up the small hill, and down the meadow. She was laughing so hard that she tripped and fell, disappearing a bit among the tallish grass. He found her quick, and knelt next to her…tickling her all over.

"Oh!" she hysterically laughed, curling up. "Stop!" she yelled.

He stopped. "Say you're sorry."

She turned on her back to look at him. "I'm…" she grinned, got up, and ran away.

"You don't know who you're playing with, Gryffindor!" he yelled after her. "Accio wand!" and his wand came at him.

She heard this, and summoned hers too, for just a split second she wondered what he was going to do. She turned, her wand at her side, her breath heaving.

He stopped running when he saw her standing there. His hair wet and in his face…he dried himself off with his wand. And he looked at her. She wasn't afraid, which was what he had expected…rather, she appeared to be a mixture of amused and wary. "I'm not going to hurt you, you know."

Hermione nodded. "I know," and she dried herself, too, then summoned her socks and shoes. She sat on the ground and put them on. He did the same, then went over and sat next to her on the ground.

"Time to go back to the real world," he said.

"Yeah."

He sighed. "Thanks for suggesting this."

Hermione nodded. "Maybe we can again next weekend?"

He looked at her. "Do you think that's wise?"

"I have no idea. But friends spend time together," and she looked at him now. "So we should."

Draco smiled. "All right," and he stood, holding his hand out to her and pulling her to standing. "But I think that ignoring each other during the week is still for the best."

"Agreed." And she followed him out of the Room, into the corridor. "See you," she said.

He nodded, and turned to go the opposite way.

She watched until he rounded the bend, and went down the stairs.

* * *

"Harry…"

"Hermione, I just want to know what he's up to."

She sighed. She was sitting across from him in the common room. He had been examining the Marauders' Map since Tuesday. It was Thursday night…

(and just a few more days until Sunday)

She was thinking that she might tell him what she was up to, just to keep him off his back. "Your concern should be the memory."

"It is my concern."

"Is it? Because all I'm hearing is Malfoy this and Malfoy that."

"What about Malfoy?" Ron said, sitting next to Harry and eyeing Hermione suspiciously.

She rolled her eyes. "Nothing."

"He's been off the Map all day."

"So?" she said. "What about the other times you've checked?"

"Well…it looks like he's been in class more."

She lowered her gaze and smiled to herself. "Maybe he went somewhere else. Like, maybe he went to Hogsmeade."

"Don't be daft, Hermione. He'd need permission…"

"You don't think that Snape would grant him permission," she stated, as though it was ludicrous.

"She's right, mate," Ron said. "Snape would totally give Malfoy permission for anything."

"Look. I've got homework. When are your Quidditch practices this weekend?"

"Saturday afternoon," Harry began. "And probably a late one Sunday. Hufflepuff next weekend."

"Ok. Well, you two should get moving," she stood. "I'm heading up."

And she went to her bed, got out her Ancient Runes homework, and started.

All day Friday she stayed holed in her room doing homework.

* * *

Draco was in the Slytherin common room Sunday pretending to read a book. He kept looking at the mantle clock tick, waiting for seven to arrive.

"You going back there?" Goyle was standing in front of him.

Draco nodded, not looking up.

"When the hell will you be finished with whatever you're doing?"

"That's my business," now he looked. "I'm not bothering you two goons anymore about it, so sod off."

"Yeah. Why don't you need us?"

"Because you're useless morons who can't follow simple instructions." he stood and brushed passed him.

"So…what…?" Goyle's voice was raised. "Just gonna take the glory for yourself, then?"

"I'm doing what I have to do," and he slammed the door shut to the dormitory.

He sighed and threw the book on the bed. And he thought about the calendar and what day it was.

Well into March.

He wouldn't have it done in time…he knew it. He'd need to write to ask for more time…at least a couple of weeks, maybe more.

Because now, now that he was keeping up with homework and things, he only went to work on the cabinet about once a week. And it was driving him mad.

After Hermione had found him like that…dehydrated and exhausted, he decided that he'd be better off dead than live like that. That was no life.

None of this was.

He hated everyone. Had no friends. His family saw him only as a means to regain the Dark Lord's favor. Well, perhaps not his mother.

All he had now was Hermione Granger.

Muggle-born, Gryffindor, book-worm Granger.

And all week they'd avoid looking at one another. Just yesterday he'd caught her glancing at him in the great hall and she'd looked away immediately.

He'd thought about bumping into her at the library, but he rarely went there, and he thought it might look suspicious.

Besides, he thought, not talking to her all week made Sunday feel all the more special.

And he felt sick at the thought of his happiness hinging on spending time with her.  
But it was an escape, the only one he had. He'd attempted to go to Hogsmeade via special permission, but he was looked at oddly there, and felt as though he was being watched.

And the Room…

The Room was always there…like a brick wall.

And the fact that it had become his escape and his prison simultaneously did things to his mind.

He went to his desk and retrieved a quill and parchment.

_I need more time. _

_Middle of May. _

And he rolled and sealed it, then left for the owlery.

* * *

Hermione was waiting outside of the Room again. And she was beginning to wonder if this was a good idea. If they continued to meet here, every week, they'd probably get caught.

Or maybe Harry'd see them on the map together.

It was then that she decided that they'd need to go somewhere else. Maybe outside…it was warming now.

She heard someone running up the stairs, and she panicked a bit…she ducked behind a column, watchful of the staircase.

…Draco hopped to the top stair and walked down the corridor. He looked around….

"Draco…" she hissed.

He jumped, then looked. He smiled at her. "What are you doing?" he whispered.

"Nothing," and she emerged. "Waiting for you. Where were you?"

"Owlery."

Hermione nodded, but didn't say anything. "You go first."

"Ok," he turned to the wall. "I need my room at the Manor…" two more times.

She swallowed when she heard this. Why would he want his bedroom? What did he think was happening…? But she followed him inside, and he clicked the door closed behind him. "What are we doing here?" she turned to him, as she took in her surroundings.

It was a grey room, rather dark. The bed was fairly large with Slytherin green bedding. The windows were huge…nearly floor to ceiling. He had some furniture: a desk, bookshelf, wardrobe, two chairs by a smallish hearth. The ceiling itself was high…and there were soft lamps in three corners. It was nice, but not overly comfortable. "Well, no one ever visits the Manor. And I thought that you'd like to see it."

She nodded, still looking around. "It's nice."

"Is it? I find it rather stuffy."

"Open a window," she smiled, and walked over to one. She pushed it open and looked into the garden below. It was magnificent. "Oh…" she breathed. "What a lovely garden."

Trees, flowering shrubs, a pond just beyond…it was scattered, but picturesque.

Draco had walked over to her and watched as she appreciated the garden. "Mother loves it, too. She spends time out there when she can."

"Is she terribly busy?" she asked.

"Seems like it," and he walked away, moving to the chairs and sitting down.

"Do you? Go out there, I mean?" she came over and sat in the other one.

"Sometimes," he leaned his head back.

Hermione nodded, and felt a breeze enter through the open window. "You don't like your room?"

"Don't like my home, much."

"Why?"

"I used to…before…" he swallowed, and crossed his legs, folding his hands. "Before he came back."

She nodded. "Are you afraid of him?" she said softly.

"Of course I am. Aren't you?"

She noted that it should have been difficult for him to admit that, but he claimed it with such ease…it must mean that he was quite comfortable with her now…but she was careful to answer. "Yes. But I'm also not."

"What the bloody hell does that mean?"

She smiled. "Well, there's only so much he can do, you know. I might die. But honestly, dying isn't the worst of it. And that's what he thinks is."

"Sorry?"

"Voldemort," she said, and he jumped, wincing. "Thinks that death is the worst fate. Harry told me that. But that's illogical, because everyone dies, there's no escaping it. So, while I'm afraid of torture a bit, and of course of people who I care about suffering, I'm not afraid to die."

"Very practical of you," he smiled.

She shrugged.

"So…" he began. "If the Dark Lord threatened your family, you'd be afraid?"

Hermione swallowed. It seemed a lot to divulge to the son of a Death Eater. Friend or no. "Well, yes…"

"Because that's what he's done to me, Hermione," he uncrossed his legs, and leaned over, his voice soft.

Her eyes went wide. It was here…"You said something to that effect," she nodded.

"He's threatened to kill my family. Right in front of me. And he said he'd decide whether or not to let me live. If I don't do this thing."

She didn't know if she was breathing. "Do what?"

His eyes were a storm…his face, impassive. "I …" he stood and went to the window impatiently. "I told you. You mustn't know."

"Draco…" she went to him now, but he was looking out the window, not seeing the garden. "Listen to me. You aren't alone, all right? Maybe I can…"

"No!" he turned to her. "No," he said again, with less poison. "I bought myself more time. They won't say no…there's no hurry. Not really…" he seemed like he was talking to himself, convincing himself of something.

"Time for what?"

"Time for…" what, indeed. "I haven't figured out the cabinet. And all other options are off the table. So I _need_ to fix it. Need to do more research, or something…" he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at his feet.

"Okay."

"Okay?" his eyes found hers.

She nodded. "Yeah. My turn," and she took his hand and they left the Room together.

* * *

_A/N I'm off this week, so I'm thinking one __update/day? I'm going to change the timeline a bit in THBP, just because I think I need to. _

_A few more chapters of this kind of stuff, and then we're gonna change it up a bit._


	8. When sorrows come

It made sense that she'd engage in a tit-for-tat with him, so when they entered her room, he wasn't surprised.

It was a soft room, but not overly feminine. Bright, as she had described her house in general.

Draco walked to the window and looked at her view. There was a small garden below with some flowers. Nothing more. He turned back and scanned the room…books. Lots of books on shelves. There were some photos on her desk. All of the furniture was a light wood. Her overlay on her bed was cream colored, and there was a large trunk at the foot of her bed.

Above her bed was a painting…it was rather dark, and seemed to be out of place. "What's that?" he asked, pointing at it.

"My grandfather painted it. It was the view from their lake house."

He nodded. "It's rather good."

She smiled and went over to it. "They had to sell it. It was a shame, but at the time, it made sense."

"Why?" he looked at her.

"Well, because they were ill, and my parents couldn't have them move in. So, they sold their houses and moved into a care community…"

He nodded, not quite understanding. "Where are they now? Still there?"

She shook her head, tears in her eyes. "They both passed about ten years ago. Within weeks of each other."

He swallowed.

She smiled. "He couldn't live without her. He told me that…and he said that he loved me, and to do great things with the gifts that I have, which is what I'm trying to do…"

"Your grandfather…"

"Yeah," she whispered.

He looked back at the painting. "Where is it?"

"In the Peaks. Derbyshire."

He nodded and turned away, taking in the space. "It's a nice room."

Hermione laughed. "Yeah. I guess so."

"Don't you think it's nice?" he went and sat on the chair by her desk.

She sat on the edge of her bed. "I don't think about it very much."

He smiled. "Why?"

"Because…because I guess this life seems so very different from my life at school. In fact, it does feel rather odd having you here. Like, my two worlds are intermingling."

"What? No Potter or Weasley have ever darkened that door?"

She shook her head. "No."

Draco swallowed. "I'm honored," he smirked.

"You should be," she laughed. "Draco…"

"Hm?" he was looking at her books.

"I'm thinking that maybe next week we should do something different."

"Such as…?"

"Well…it'll be near the end of March. Maybe we could go for a walk."

His brow furrowed. _Near the end of March._ He hoped that they'd grant him more time…"Good. Sounds good."

"Well…"

"Ready to leave already?" he looked at her.

"Ah…"

"I was just admiring your book collection. Really nailed it when I said you were a book worm," he kicked his head to her shelves and stood, taking one from the shelf.

"It really can't be surprising that I'd have a lot of books, can it?" she stood and went over to him.

He'd picked up _Jane Eyre_. "What is this?" he asked.

"A book."

"Thank you, Granger. You have a knack for stating the obvious," he smirked. "But I mean…I've never heard of it."

"There's a lot of muggle stuff I'm sure you haven't heard of…" she took the book, and then thought a moment. "But hang on. There's one you might appreciate…" and she scanned her shelves. "Ah ha! Here it is," and she picked up a thinner book. "Here, Draco Malfoy, lies one of the most beloved muggle stories of all time, written by one of the greatest authors who ever lived," she handed it to him.

He took it, a skeptical look on his face. "Hamlet, by William Shakespeare."

"Good. Step one, check," she smiled. "You should read it. It's a play," then she looked at the door. "I hope you can take this out of here…"

He paged through it a bit, wondering why she'd think he'd enjoy it. He put it in the back pocket of his jeans and looked at the bookshelf again.

…and Hermione was watching him. How much he'd changed! Not so long ago, he would not have deigned to step a toe in her room, and now he was perusing her books. Whatever was going on with him was potent and grave, she was sure of it. "Well…maybe we should go."

He nodded, still reading titles. "All right."

So she walked to the door and opened it.

…and there was Lavender Brown. .

Her mouth fell open…she slammed the door, turning toward him, her heart pounding.

"What's wrong?"

Could she have seen him? Is it possible? She wasn't looking when she opened the door…maybe she just saw her, and then she could easily explain that…make something up…

She went in and sat on her bed, her hands on her mouth. The lies she was weaving…this wasn't like her.

"Hermione?"

"Yeah," and her hands fell.

"What the hell just happened?"

"Lavender Brown was standing there."

He looked at the door. "Well, why don't you leave and I'll wait a few minutes and then head out."

"She saw me slam the door on her face. I can't go _back_."

He laughed. "So you're just going to _stay_ here?"

"Well, no. I can't really do that, either."

He waited a moment, then his palms went out. "I fail to see another alternative. You either stay or you go."

"I can wait a while…make sure that the halls are clear."

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "I guess if I'm spotted here it'd be equally bad for you."

She looked at him, and suddenly felt quite guilty at the lot of it. "What a mess."

Draco swallowed and sat back in the chair. "You'll pardon me if I don't offer an apology, as this has been the only thing in my life which hasn't been a mess."

"Oh! I am sorry, Draco…I didn't mean…"

"S'okay. I get it. We can only pretend so much."

His words stung. "I meant that I've been lying to Harry, to everyone really…because I haven't been honest about how much…" she swallowed. "How much I've come to care for you," and she felt his eyes skirting her own…her dark eyes soft.

He felt himself stagger a breath. No one, save perhaps his mother, had ever claimed to truly care for him. And his anger ebbed, and he felt an affinity just then for Hermione that he could not claim to have ever felt for anyone before. "I …" he hung his head. "I'm sorry. For ever having called you a Mudblood."

"Oh, Draco. I know that you are," she smiled. "Let's play a game while we wait," and she got off the bed and opened the trunk. "Hm…" she started going through her things, but she felt him next to her, and she looked up at him, forgetting for a moment just how tall he was. "What?" she smiled, standing up fully.

…and he pulled her into a hug. He rested his hands on her back, his cheek on the top of her head…and he breathed as she did, slowly and steadily. And she was warm, and returned his hug.

It was platonic, everything about it. Two friends, offering comfort and thanks for company…

But Hermione thought that it would appear very odd if someone walked in on them in her room, hugging. Not that that was likely, because no one would know to ask to go to Hermione's room.

But there was, at least on his part, a very, very slight pang at her touch. It was so minuscule that it could almost be dismissed outright.

Almost.

He pulled away. "You know, Hermione…despite everything, I care about you too."

"Despite everything?" her smile was crooked.

"Yeah…you know. You being a Gryffindor. A book-worm. Pot-head's best friend," he smiled broadly.

"What about Ron? Over the blood traitor?"

"Weasel is a distraction," he sat on her bed. "And now I'm a blood traitor, too. And don't give a damn."

"A distraction?" she offered a bemused look.

"Well, you're obviously loads more intelligent."

She shrugged. "Doesn't mean I'm better."

"No…" he looked at her…"But it does mean something."

She blushed, and couldn't account for it, but returned to her trunk. "What about chess?"

He shrugged. "Fine."

* * *

It was some time later, and two games (they split them), that Hermione finally said that it must be getting on eleven, and they'd get into trouble if discovered wandering the halls.

He sighed, laying back on the floor. "Maybe I'll stay."

"Stay? Here?" she laughed. "In my room?"

"Why not?"

"Well…because school. And also you can't just disappear. It'll spark interest."

He put his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. "It's happening soon," he said it so softly that she barely heard him.

"What?"

"The thing."

Hermione swallowed. "Draco…"

"I can't stop it, so don't bother."

"You could! You have choices! Go to Dumbledore!"

He winced, sitting up. "I can't go to Dumbledore."

"Why?" and there were tears in her voice.

He looked at her. "Don't. Don't _do_ that, Hermione. That's not who you are."

"I'm scared for you."

He sighed, looking at her steadily and wanting to scream. He felt everything welling inside of him. He stood, running his hands through his hair. "I think we should wait a bit to meet again. I'll send you an owl when I'm done with the book and we can make plans then."

"Why?" she stood now, too.

"Because I need to work. I have to study. I need to be done with all of this…" he turned and looked at her. "It's killing me."

She nodded. "I can help you."

"No, you can't."

"Draco, please…"

"Don't!" he yelled, taking a step back. "Don't," and his voice was softer. "You can't help me. I need to do this thing, and that's all there is to it," he walked to the door. "Let's go. I'm certain that old Lav Lav is gone now," he opened it slowly, peering out into the deserted hall.

She didn't say anything, but walked to the door and stopped in the doorway next to him, but not looking. She took a step when he seized her hand and pulled her to him, her ear right next to his mouth. "Look for my owl…" and he let go, stepping down and heading down the corridor without looking back.

She watched as he left, and she was cold with terror.

* * *

The next two weeks were a blur for Hermione. She was absorbed in studying…she was distant and preoccupied at the same time.

And when the Ravenclaw Quidditch match loomed, she took no notice.

It was April now…

She was in the Gryffindor common room scratching on parchment, when Harry came running in, looking terrified. "Harry?" she said.

Nothing. He was running upstairs.

And then he ran back. "Hermione…I need your Potions book."

"Is that _blood_?" she breathed.

"Hermione! Now, please!"

She jumped and dug in her bag, then handed it to Harry. "What happened? Are you all right?"

"Fine…it's Malfoy's blood…" and he crawled through the portrait hole again.

And her ears were ringing. She sunk back into the chair, numb.

She was sitting there, waiting, pretending to be reading. As soon as they'd finally go to bed, she'd sneak out.

"I can't believe it…I never meant…"

"'Course you didn't. That Prince bloke doesn't seem so…"

She looked at Ron, who had been talking. Sectumsempra…that was the curse Harry had used on Draco.

She was pale with worry. She didn't want Harry to get into trouble…but she also wanted to see Draco. He had become almost as good a friend to her as Harry or Ron. And part of her hated that he had.

"I'm going to bed," said Harry, and he stood. "Detention for the rest of the year…" he sighed, but she knew he wasn't angry. It was what he knew he deserved.

"Me too," and she stood, wanting desperately to avoid Ron.

"Hermione," he called.

"Night, Ron," she said, disappearing up the stairs.

She waited for half an hour, chewing on her lip and fingernails. The rest of the girls were asleep…and she rather wished she had Harry's cloak.

She cast a disillusionment charm on herself and crept down the stairs.

The embers were dying in the hearth.

Hermione slowly opened the portrait hole and crawled out…hurrying along to the hospital wing.

She took note of the time…it was twelve thirty in the morning.

And she crept along, hoping that she didn't run into Peeves. She kept recasting the disillusionment charm, because they tend to wear off quickly.

Finally she reached the steps to the wing, and she walked up, as slowly and as quietly as possible.

Hermione got to the door to the first ward and looked in…

There was Draco, bathed in moonlight, and he looked at stark as the sheets. He had bandages on his cheek, and it appeared as though there were more on at least one of his hands.

Her breath hitched as she pushed the door open.

She walked over to his bed…he was sound asleep. "Oh, Draco. I am sorry," she breathed. Snape's healing spells had done a good bit of the work, but there had obviously been a lot of blood loss.

And she felt torn, because she knew that Harry hadn't meant to hurt him so.

She sat next to him, looking at his pale face.

…and the worry she had felt when she discovered that he had been hurt was palpable, but she couldn't talk about it with anyone.

She was trapped…

She sighed, and conjured _Hamlet_, leaving it next to him so that he had something to do when he woke, and so he knew that she had been there to see him.

Hermione sat back in the chair, then looked out of the window.

What had started as a means to discover something possibly insidious had evolved into her simply caring about what happened to Draco. She wanted to know what he was doing in order to keep him safe, not to prove that he was…

And her eyes snapped to his left arm. She hadn't thought about the Dark Mark until just then, because she had been certain that Harry was wrong. There was no way that Voldemort would have branded a sixteen year old kid.

But Draco had been so different…he was sad, scared…maybe Harry _had_ been right. Maybe one of the reasons why Draco was so terrified, had such a preoccupation with the idea that he wasn't going to survive whatever he was doing, was because he had been labeled a man in the world of the Death Eaters.

She wanted to look, but she didn't know if it would wake him. And she had a thought that he would be ashamed…

Or else very, very angry.

It felt too intimate.

So she didn't, and contented herself with looking at him.

Then she picked up _Hamlet._

"BERNARDO:

Who's there?

FRANCISCO:

Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself.

BERNARDO:

Long live the king!"

And she sat there, for quite some time, reading.

* * *

It was nearly dawn when he woke.

Everything hurt…his side most of all. He looked around…

Hospital wing.

…and it came back to him.

Potter, in the bathroom.

Potter, seeing him crying and vulnerable.

Potter, hitting him with a curse, and all of his blood…

Draco had reacted badly. His first thought had been Crucio, but then ducked a spell from Potter. He thought _Expelliarmus,_ but not quickly enough, and he was hit with knives all over his body.

He sat up gingerly, and noticed that a chair had been pulled next to his bed.

It was then that he saw _Hamlet_ sitting on the bedside table.

He smiled.

She had been there.


	9. Escaping

He remained in the hospital wing for two days. She didn't come back…not that he expected her to. But the realization that she wouldn't, did, ever so slightly, disappoint him.

More daunting still was the thought that Potter knew that he was failing at his task.

When he arrived at the Slytherin table the morning following his release, he glanced at over at the Gryffindor table.

Hermione wasn't there.

Potter and Weasley were, though, and Potter spotted him.

Draco looked away, avoiding the glare he had almost offered.

And he dropped his gaze to his plate, suddenly not hungry at all. He rose and left for his first class, determined to carry on as though nothing had happened.

* * *

Hermione was in the library, as per usual.

She had gotten as many books as she could from the Restricted Section…but there was nothing on Horcruxes. She had begun this quest over the past few weeks while she avoided Draco. It made sense. Discovering what she could about Horcruxes ran counter, she assumed, to whatever he was up to.

But she missed him. She wanted to spend time with him again. And she didn't know how she felt about that fact.

It felt odd admitting that she was friends, genuine friends, with Draco Malfoy. That she cared about him.

But there it was. She sat back, thinking.

And she heard something…it sounded like a scratching on glass.

She looked, and there was a large, dark owl outside of the window. She gasped, and opened it.

"Thank you," and she gave the owl a biscuit from breakfast she'd saved.

She unrolled the parchment after she closed the window:

_Meet me in greenhouse two after dinner_

She smiled.

* * *

"Where are you going?" Ron was sitting by the hearth with Hermione.

"For a walk."

He looked at her crookedly. "You haven't seen him lately, have you?"

She shook her head. "No. Not for …what? Almost a month." That was mostly true. Seeing him sleeping in the hospital ward really didn't count, and that was only the one time.

"I was just wondering if he's better."

"Oh. I'm not sure. You've probably seen him more than I have…. Not really left the library."

He nodded.

_Tell him, Hermione. Tell him you're seeing him now…_"So…"

"Yeah. Enjoy the fresh air."

She smiled and left.

And she walked out, the spring air cool on her face. The sun was setting, and the sky was a soft orange. She breathed in deeply…it was a fresh scent that surrounded her.

Down she went to greenhouse two…and she opened the door.

The humidity was thick and pervasive…she quickly pulled the door shut…and she briefly wondered if Professor Sprout kept the doors locked or not. "Draco?" she hissed, not knowing exactly why she was being purposefully quiet. No one was there except her and Draco, presumably.

"Why are you being quiet?" he was behind her.

She yelped and turned.

…and there he was. His face bore a scar from the curse, he appeared thinner, but that was all. He seemed the same otherwise. She smiled. "It's good to see you."

"I was beginning to think that you weren't coming."

"Am I late? You did't give a specific time."

"No. I've just been here a while," and he sat on a stool.

And she sat, too. "How are you?"

He looked at his lap, shrugging. "All right."

"Feeling better?"

And he nodded, looking up. "Thanks for checking on me."

"Of course," she was regarding him eagerly. "And…how's the Room?"

He swallowed. "I think…it's coming."

Her heart sped up. This was likely very not good…

And he looked away, thinking. "That's one reason why I'm here."

"Ok?"

"Hermione…I'm going to try and stop it."

"What?" she breathed.

"The thing. I'm finished working on the cabinet, but I've been trying to figure out a way for it to…do something else."

"Why?"

He looked at her now. "Because I'm tired. And I'm especially tired of being a pawn. And I need…I need to…"

"Yes?"

He sighed. "I'm running."

She felt the blood drain from her. "You're what?"

"I'm running. I need to get out. And I didn't want to just disappear. So I'm telling you."

"Draco…"

"It's the only way. And I'm planning on going to Dumbledore tonight. I've been thinking a lot, and even though I love my family, I can't _do_ this anymore," he paused. "I told my mother."

She swallowed. "When are you leaving?"

His eyes found hers. "Probably tonight. Right after I see Dumbledore."

"Oh my god."

"Hermione…"

She covered her face with her hands, then dropped them to her lap. "Where?"

"Where…?"

"Where are you going?"

He shook his head. "I'm not sure. Probably just gonna see what I can do to help. If not, just try to stay alive."

She glanced at him, a pained look on her face. "We haven't been friends very long…but that doesn't mean that I care less about you than Harry …or Ron."

Draco nodded. "Wonders never cease," he smirked.

She smiled a bit. "Who are you going to try to help?"

"Well, not the Order, I think. But there's more and more people on the run. Maybe I can help them get to safety. I'll be a wanted man, so there's only so much I can do." They sat there for a moment, not really looking at each other. "What are you thinking?"

"Trying to figure out how I can communicate with you while you're running off…"

He laughed. "That _would_ be your reaction," he reached over to one of the planters. "Are you familiar with Victorian flower meanings?"

"A bit."

"This is an azalea," he handed it to her. "Look it up," and he stood and leaned over, kissing her cheek. "See you around, Granger."

She didn't look at him, and tears ran down her face when she heard the door close.

Hermione got up and went to the Tower. She felt awful. The tears had not ceased since he left. And she took out her book on flower meanings:

_Azalea: Remembering your home with fondness or wishing to return to it._

_Passion that is still developing and fragile._

_Femininity and feminine beauty._

_Taking care of yourself and your family._

_Abundance, especially of beauty or intelligence._

And she wondered which he meant, or if he meant all of it. And that caused her some disquiet…because some of the meanings were intimate…even romantic.

Hermione couldn't think about Draco in that capacity. Just could not.

But she began thinking about how far they had come, how much he had changed. And it made her think that he needed her, because it did seem like her presence had soothed him, at least somewhat.

She stared at her things…

"Hey Hermione."

"Hi Ginny," she replied, looking up.

"Harry left with Dumbledore a couple of hours ago. He gave us the rest of his Felix…he's worried."

She smiled. "He worries a lot."

"Yeah, but he said something about Trelawney. Something about…Malfoy. He said that he thinks he's planning something in the Room of Requirement. Did you ever tell him?"

Her face fell. "Oh my god." Was it possible that Draco had been lying to her? Was she just being incredibly naive?

What could she do? She stood, and started packing her things.

"What's going on?" Ginny stood too.

"I need to go…" she shoved her beaded bag in her knapsack…it had a tent. Camping supplies…books…everything if she needed to leave in a hurry.

"Where? Where are you going?"

"I'm not sure. I'll either be back soon or I'll send you a message," and she hurried out the door.

Ginny was left there, holding a pink azalea.

* * *

He thought he had sealed the entrance to Borgin and Burkes so that no one could get in that way….he could escape from Hogwarts through the cabinet. But it couldn't be used in the reverse.

And that was what he was going to do, as soon as he talked to Dumbledore.

He _thought _he had fixed it.

He was packing a bag in his room…the Slytherins were all in the common room…

And he slipped out.

Draco had made his way to the other end of the castle when he heard it. A bang, and laughter.

…and he froze.

_No_…he had reversed the magic! He was certain of it…

Had they gotten in another way?

Impossible.

He broke out into a run to Dumbledore's office…His breath came quick. Was there anything else he could do?

Anyway to stop them now?

There was none…his thoughts pounding in time with his feet.

_Run…get to Dumbledore…stop them…_

He stopped at the gargoyle. "Password," he breathed. What the bloody hell was the password?

And at that moment, he looked out of the window and saw his headmaster on a broom, heading for the astronomy tower.

Draco doubled back and ran up a winding staircase not far from where he had been. His knapsack slowing him down ever so slightly, his trainers pounding the stone.

He saw Dumbledore from below, heard him talking, then ran up the stairs.

The old wizard whirled around, wand at the ready, and Draco panicked. "Expelliarmus!" And Dumbledore's wand went flying. "Sorry," he breathed.

"Mr Malfoy…to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Ah…sir…there are Death Eaters in the castle."

"So I gathered by the Dark Mark hovering above…"

"No," he said. They had cast the Mark? Someone had already died…?

"You don't know about it?"

Draco shook his head. "No…I …I've come to warn you. But I must be too late."

"Warn me?"

"The Dark Lord. He wanted me to kill you."

Dumbledore nodded. "I see…"

"I wanted to tell you earlier, but…but the cabinet…and I was going to do it…" he was stammering his words, and fearful of not getting it all out before the Death Eaters came. "I'm leaving, sir. And now you know that they mean to murder you. Here. Tonight."

"You're leaving? School, or Voldemort?"

He swallowed. "Both."

"I can protect you, Draco," Dumbledore said softly. "You needn't live on the run."

"I don't have a choice. He's going to hunt me now…but if I just run, maybe he won't hurt my mother."

"We can protect her, too…"

"No. No I've got to go. I'm marked…" he thought of the imprint on his arm. "And it's too late. But you can run…or assemble the Order, whatever you do," he backed away. There was a disturbance he heard from the floor below. "I need to go…" and he ran to the back stairs, then looked behind him. "Good luck, sir. And thank you…" he descended them in a rush.

…and forgot to give him back his wand, as he heard the Death Eaters coming up on the other side of the tower.

Draco took two, three steps at a time as he ran down…and he wondered what had driven him to this.

He had been so depressed and lost…angry that his father had told him to be proud that the Dark Lord had given him this most important task…

But he knew what this was. If he was somehow able to survive attacking Dumbledore, which he doubted, he would still be a prisoner. Because Voldemort was living at his house.

If he failed in killing the headmaster, then Voldemort would kill him, and probably his whole family.

He wanted out.

The whole thing was killing him.

But he didn't even consider it until Hermione started talking with him. And then he was able to get outside of his head…

He ran to the seventh floor…

And heard bangs coming from just below, and screaming…

Someone was screaming.

He slid to a stop.

He whirled around, thinking about what he could do. The Room wasn't that far…he could just slip out.

But then he heard screaming again…"Blast it," he muttered, and turned to see what happened.

He walked down the stairs, his wand shaking slightly in his hand…There were students milling about looking terrified. He peered down the hall…and saw one of the Carrows holding a student with a body bind hex…

He leaned his back against the wall, thinking, breathing hard. This was his first test.

He nodded, then emerged from the shadows.

"Alecto!" he yelled.

And she turned. "Well, if it isn't the missing Malfoy."

"Let her go," he said, pointing his wand at her.

"Make me, boy…" she sneered.

"Stupify!" he yelled, and she fell over, the bind falling from the student. He looked at them all. "What the hell are you all staring at? Get moving!"

And the students scattered.

And he ran back up the stairs…

Right into someone. "Hermione," he said.

"Draco! I've been looking everywhere…oh thank god," and she took his hand, pulling him into a nook not far from the Room. "What happened? Did someone …die?" she swallowed. "They said the Dark Mark…" and she looked at him, hoping that he didn't have anything to do with this.

"I don't know. I thought I had reversed it…" he ran his hand through his hair in agitation. "But I guess I hadn't."

"Reversed what?"

"Never mind. What are you doing here? Get back to Gryffindor Tower…"

"No."

"What?"

"I'm going with you."

He stared at her, and heard a bang coming from the eastern edge of the castle…"Like hell you are."

"Stop it. I'm coming."

His face contorted into a grimace. "Go back. Get to your dorm, and don't look back," he spat.

"No. You don't get to order me around, Draco Malfoy. I make up my own mind."

He sighed, covering his face with his hands.

"Draco…"

And his hands fell. "It's dangerous."

"I know it. And I also knew it when I became friends with you…"

"What about your _other_ friends? The Gryffindor ones."

Her face fell, and she looked away. "Harry has Ron. They'll be ok," she swallowed. She looked again. "You don't have anyone else."

And the truth and magnitude of what she was saying hit him like a bludger. "That's why I can't risk you coming, Hermione."

"No. That's why you can't risk leaving me here."

He shook his head, rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Do what you want. I'm leaving through the cabinet…"

"You're what?" she breathed. Through the cabinet…?

But he had turned and went to stare at the wall…he felt some guilt leaving Hogwarts…_I need the place where everything is hidden…._but Dumbledore would protect them here. Dumbledore would make sure that the Order was rising…two more times…

And the door materialized.

And Hermione followed him just as he turned, and saw Bellatrix running up the corridor, a scowl on her face…"Traitor!" she screeched…

He grabbed Hermione's hand as the door disappeared…his heart hammering against his chest. "Hurry!" and they ran to the cabinet. He opened the door…and ran through.

They landed in Borgin and Burkes…it was empty.

"Are we in Knockturn Alley?" she breathed.

He nodded.

"Let's get out of here," and she dropped his hand, and opened the door, going out into the street.


	10. Tattoos and Coffee

It was lighter here…the sky was glowing a very dark blue. It was London, after all. Much further south.

And Hermione adjusted her bag. "Let's disapparate…Bellatrix might be right behind us."

Draco couldn't think. He nodded, not exactly knowing what he was agreeing to.

She took his hand, and they disappeared, the air closing in on them.

They landed on soft earth, and Draco collapsed, fisting the ground…he felt an overwhelming sense of fear…

What had he been thinking? He betrayed _Voldemort_. He was a ghost…he'd be dead in a month. And suddenly it didn't seem like he was at all intelligent. His altruistic realizations seemed painfully dumb.

All because someone had shown him kindness.

And he looked at Hermione, casting spells in the clearing.

He swallowed, and turned to sit. No, he mustn't think like that. He needed to keep his head. He had made his choice with his eyes open.

She turned and opened a small bag, rummaging through it. "Ha!" she exclaimed, and pulled out a canvas bag, ten times the size of her handbag.

"What's that?"

"A tent. Just for a night or two…"

"Where'd you manage to find a tent at Hogwarts?"

"Not at Hogwarts…Mr Weasley had it, and last summer he was getting rid of it. I asked if I could use it," and she waved her wand, the tent springing up.

"You want me to sleep in a _tent_?"

"Why, yes, your majesty," she chided, bringing her things inside, then poking her head out. "Coming?"

He picked up his own bag and went inside. It was rather big, and smelled disgusting. He waved his wand and the smell went away.

Hermione looked at him. "Impressive," she said.

"Always," he winked. "Where are we?"

"Derbyshire. Brassington, actually. Not far from the lake house…it's in disrepair, but I thought that in the morning I could go and have a look. Maybe we could fix it up and use it."

"For how long?" he watched as she unpacked things.

She looked up. "As long as it takes."

He swallowed, then looked at the beds. "Which is mine?"

"Whichever. I don't have a preference," and she took clothes out, bringing them to her side of the tent after he chose. "I think that I'll write McGonagall in the morning. I'll ask if I can keep up with my work via correspondence. And I can send a few things to Harry and Ron," she was talking mostly to herself…he was watching her from the edge of his bed. "I brought all of my books and things. Potions might be difficult, but it's doubtful Snape would agree, anyway…" she took off her clothes, her back to him.

Draco swallowed and laid down, turning away from her. She was fussing about school work. Clearly she didn't realize how much danger they were in. "I'm rather tired…" he said.

"Oh…all right. Night, then."

Hermione got a few things together…all the while her mind was churning. She formulated a plan…

She'd get an owl and write to McGonagall, explaining exactly what had happened. She'd have to be careful not to divulge their location, but the Death Eaters knew now that Draco betrayed them, and it was very likely that Bellatrix had recognized her. So, they knew all of that now.

They'd stay in the tent until the house was ready, then they could move there and she'd send Harry the tent and some other things she had set aside for the possible time _they'd_ need to run. She'd try to apparate to the Weasley's over the summer and explain everything.

The house, then, could be a safe house. Draco could bring refugees there…they could use it as a base of sorts. Harry and Ron could, too, if they needed it.

She'd just have to be very careful and very particular about her spell work. She could do her school work, and help people estranged from the war. Hopefully Harry and Ron could find the Horcruxes…

And Draco…well. She looked over at him. He was sound asleep.

He may need a bit of time to digest everything.

The only thing left was food.

And she decided to go into the village in the morning. She had a bit of muggle money, and she could alter her appearance somewhat.

But a steady source might be problematic.

She sighed, and draped her arm over her forehead.

Here she was, alone with Draco Malfoy.

What a cock up.

She smiled.

* * *

He woke to a silent tent.

And he sat bolt upright, not completely remembering where he was or what had happened. He looked around, and it came back to him.

He was with Hermione Granger, in a tent, somewhere in Derbyshire.

And he was likely running for his life. "Hermione?" he said.

Nothing.

Draco got up and got dressed, cleaned his teeth. He went outside and looked around. It was a nice spot. He sat on the ground and thought about what he'd do next.

He'd need to find a copy of the Prophet, probably every day. Discover who was missing, and try to get to them as quietly as possible.

This was not going to be an easy task.

But, what else could he do to help? And he did want to help. He had been part of creating the mess…and because he no longer believed the lies, he needed to be part of the solution.

"Hi," he jumped.

"Hey," he said, standing.

"Sleep well?"

"Yeah. Bit too well," he smiled. "Where'd you go?"

"Food and things," she went inside. "Got you some coffee, too," she handed it to him. "I noticed you drink it every morning, but I didn't know how you took it. So…" she emptied some sugar, and a bottle of cream.

He smiled, and gave his coffee one sugar and a dollop of cream. "Thanks."

"I wrote to McGonagall. Sent her an owl and asked to please respond quickly. She's sending it to the muggle post in Brassington…" she started to cut up fruit. "I'll check later for a response."

"You know that we're in a lot of danger, right?"

Hermione nodded, looking at him. "I have a plan…" and she related everything she considered the night previous to him.

Draco sat there, marveling at how much thought she'd given all of this. "You don't think that we can be tracked here?"

"Well, obviously we can. But think about it. Voldemort…"

He winced. "Can you just say the Dark Lord…?"

"I most certainly will not."

"How about You-Know-Who? Or DL? Even V?"

She snorted. "V?"

Draco shrugged, sitting down on a chair in what seemed like a sitting area.

"Fine. V isn't going to spend all sorts of time looking for you. He'll just remind his Death Eaters that you're out there, probably with that Mudblood girl. If you see them, kill them. So, we just need to keep a low profile. We needn't keep moving."

He nodded, unable to think. He'd spent months trying to break Death Eaters into the castle, about a month trying to see if the magic would reverse. Planning his escape.

He couldn't _think_ anymore. He didn't want to. It felt good to have someone else make plans.

But, Draco thought, sitting back in the chair, he should come completely clean with her, especially since they were abut to spend loads of time together. "Hermione," he began.

"Hm?" she handed him some toast and fruit.

"Have a seat."

She hesitated, then sat, folding her hands.

He cleared his throat and set the plate down on a table between them. "Last summer, V told me that he had a task for me. A most important task…one that would erase the misdeeds of my father, restoring my family's esteem in his eye."

She took a breath. This was it.

"So, he told me that I'd need to…" he swallowed. "I'd need to kill Professor Dumbledore."

Her mouth fell open. "What?"

"He said, _do this thing, and you and your family will be rewarded. Fail, and you and your family will pay with your lives._ I know that it seems naive to have believed any of this…but I knew that he would at least kill my father, so I agreed," he took a deep breath. "But there was something else." His right hand shook a bit…and he pushed the sleeve of this left arm up.

And there it was.

Proof that Harry had been right…the angry, ugly thing burned into Draco's left forearm.

Hermione gasped. "You're a Death Eater."

"Well, not really. He marked me because I had a very specific and important task, and he needed to be able to alert me…it was though he viewed it as incentive."

She looked at him. "Incentive?" she sounded incredulous.

He shrugged, a meek smile on his face. "So…I was going to have the Death Eaters infiltrate the castle through the only entrance no one knew about…"

"The cabinet."

He nodded. "But it wasn't working for months. And then you started…"

"Bothering you?"

"You said it, not me," he smiled. "Anyway. I thought I was facing certain death. And I just …decided not to. And started working on how to reverse the doorway. I thought I had figured it out. I'd escape and the cabinet would be closed. And Dumbledore would know, and take precautions. But something went wrong. They came early, and the magic hadn't completely reversed the effects of the cabinet."

She nodded. "I wonder what happened. After we left.'

Draco didn't answer.

She sighed. "Well, hopefully McGonagall will respond quickly."

He looked at his hands. "How far is the lake house?"

"Mm…about a ten minute walk."

"Let's go look at it," and he stood, grabbed his wand, and left the tent.

Hermione followed him out of the tent, and fell into step beside him.

They didn't speak on the walk, both thinking and trying to make sense of what was happening; or indeed, going to happen.

After a fashion, a white, smallish house came into view. It was mostly obscured by trees, but it was obvious that the house had been neglected.

"What happened to it?" Draco walked up to the porch.

She began casting the protective enchantments around. "Well, like I said," she climbed the four steps. "It was sold, and the other owners let it get run down. It's being foreclosed on."

"Can your parents buy it?"

"I'm not sure they want it…" and she opened the screen door, then the large wooden one. Hermione walked in and looked around.

They were in a small hallway…to her left was a screened-in porch. To her right, the sitting room. She walked on…the right was the dining room. Straight back was the kitchen, and a loo right off of it. The stairs were in the kitchen, the back of the house. She didn't bother ascending the stairs. There were three bedrooms up there and another bath. It needed some paint. New appliances, maybe. She could freshen all of that up with a few spells.

Cleaning the house would take an hour or two if they both worked together. She smiled. "What do you think?" she looked at Draco, standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

What _did_ he think? He must be mental, planning on living here, playing house with Hermione Granger. "It's…" his eyebrows rose.

She blushed. "Well, it's not a _manor_ house. But it's better than a bloody tent."

He smiled. "Can't argue there."

She rolled her eyes. "Let's get working."

It took most of the afternoon to clean, paint, and change up the appliances. It was funny watching Draco experiment with those kinds of household spells. He clearly didn't have much experience with them.

"We can finish tomorrow and move in by supper," she said, looking around. "And then we can figure out food," she started to walk back to the tent. "And then…start to bring in refugees, like you wanted."

He shoved his hands in his pockets, head hanging, deep in thought. "Yeah."

"All right?"

"Good. Hungry, though."

"Me too. I'll go back to Brassington. Check on the mail, and get some food."

He nodded. "Sounds good."

She looked at him crookedly. "Sure you're ok?"

"Well, yeah. Just, you know. Adjusting."

She didn't answer. He was probably feeling odd, living this way. Not to mention living this way with _her_. Not knowing what was happening with his parents…all sorts of things. "I'll be back soon," she stopped at the tent and watched him go inside.

Then she disapparated.

Draco went inside and laid on the cot. He was a bit cold…maybe they could build a fire that evening. After all, it was spring. The warm months were still rather far.

He stared at the ceiling…he should help Hermione with the food that evening. He wasn't much of a cook, but how hard could it be, really?

He sighed, thinking about Hermione. She was something. He hadn't wanted her to come…he didn't want to be responsible for anything happening to her. He didn't know what he'd do if something did.

Truly, despite himself, he cared about her. It was an odd feeling, caring for someone outside of himself who wasn't his mother.

When she said she was coming with him he panicked. Most of him wanted her to stay, be safe. But a very small part was thrilled that she'd wanted to go with him. That_ she_ cared for _him_…it was not just one-sided.

And how they had gotten to this point…her stubbornness…her insistence that he didn't remain alone.

He wasn't naive. He knew that it was only slightly more than idle curiosity that incited her interest. But they had made a connection, and that pleased him.

How ironic! That he should find comfort and friendship in Hermione Granger of all people. A year ago, he would have laughed. Maybe even punched anyone who would have suggested it.

He swallowed, for he thought of all of the things he had said to her. About her. And he felt wretched.

He closed his eyes…

And her face swam in his mind's eye…

And he thought that she wasn't some ugly Mudblood. In fact, she was quite pretty. He could see why Weasley liked her.

He heard the tent flap open, and Hermione stepped inside.

He sat up with a smile…but immediately it faded. "What…?" he stood.

She was pale and shaking. Tears were streaming down her face. She walked over to him, dropping the groceries…a letter crumpled in her hand. She started to sob…

"Hermione!" he gasped, and she grabbed hold of his arms, falling into a hug.

"He's dead…"

"What? Who?"

"Dumbledore…"

He looked at nothing. Felt nothing. It had been for nothing. They'd killed him.

Or, perhaps, he had, after all. He had allowed them in, despite having tried to stop it.

He shook, and held her closer.


	11. Hufflepuffs and Gryffindorks

She sobbed for a few minutes. He didn't move.

Finally, she pulled away, rubbing her face.

"It was for nothing," he whispered.

Hermione looked up at him. "Don't say that."

"It was. He's dead…the Dark Lord got what he wanted."

"No he didn't," she protested, backing up. "He didn't get _you._ He thought he was getting a lifelong Death Eater! Instead, all he got was an enemy. In you."

He looked at her. He thought it was a paltry argument, but smiled nevertheless. "Yeah," he said, taking a few steps back.

She dropped her gaze and then picked up the groceries. "I got some things for dinner."

"Want a fire tonight? Since it's the last night we camp…"

She looked at him and nodded. "Sure," and she cut up some vegetables. "Have you ever camped, Malfoy?"

"Malfoy?" and he took a knife out and followed suit. "Why'd you call me that?"

"I'm not sure…just slipped out, I guess," she shrugged. "But have you?"

"Once. A long time ago. My favorite part was the fire."

"It's everyone's favorite part," and she lit the propane stove.

"What are we making?"

"I'm making omelets. You like 'em?"

Draco nodded. "Yeah. Usually…" he was thinking about her calling him Malfoy, and why it bothered him that she called him by his surname.

Not long thereafter they were eating omelets and toast, and Draco offered to wash the dishes. He got the basin out and filled it with water.

And Hermione watched him for a moment, struck by his willingness to help. "I'll go fetch some wood for the fire," and she left.

There was something soothing about washing the dishes. He hadn't done it much in his life, but now, with Hermione out getting the wood for the fire he had asked for, it made him feel good to do this. Like he was being useful.

And he wondered at himself wanting to be useful…

He must have changed more than he realized.

He finished up and put a sweatshirt on, then went outside. Hermione was about ten feet away, using her wand to move some earth for the fire.

He got two chairs and moved them closer to where she was building the fire. "Need help?"

"No. Almost done here," she put the twigs and branches she found into the pit and lit it. She crouched and blew a bit on them, trying to get them to catch.

He sat down…and she sat next to him, watching the flames grow.

He sighed, feeling the warmth emanating from the fire. "You miss your Gryffindorks?"

She glared at him. "Not funny."

"Mm…maybe a little bit."

She narrowed her eyes.

"All right!" he held his hands up. "Sheesh. Relax."

"I do miss them, ok?"

Draco looked at her and nodded. "I thought so."

Hermione looked at the fire. "Do you?"

"…Miss the Gryffindorks?"

She rolled her eyes. "Miss…anyone?"

"Not really."

"Don't you have _any_ friends, Draco?"

He shook his head. "I had people who were afraid of me. Had people who thought I was a bit funny…girls who wanted…money and… things," he swallowed.

"You must have been really lonely."

He looked at her. "Never thought about it much."

Hermione looked back at the fire, wrapping her arms around herself. "Well, I miss them. It'll be difficult wondering if they're all right…thinking about what they're doing…"

He didn't say anything to that. "Were you and Potter ever an item?"

Her gaze snapped to his. "What?"

"Did you and Potter ever date?"

"Ah…no?"

He nodded. "Weasley?"

She blushed. "No."

"Ah…but you've thought about the ginger Weasel, hm?"

"Stop it, Draco."

"You have!" he slapped his hands on his thighs.

She held her forehead in her hand. "Can we change the subject?"

"But this is interesting…I've often wondered at the dynamic there. What happened?"

Hermione groaned, and leaned her head back. "Why are you asking me these questions?"

"Come on, Granger. I've come clean with you. Been more than honest."

She shook her head. "All _right. _Harry and I are purely platonic. Always have been. Ron…" she sighed. "That's a bit more complicated…"

"I'm listening."

She looked at him. "Right. Well, there's always been an odd thing with us. Difficult to explain, really…"

"Attraction?" he supplied.

"I mean…I guess. Two years ago we had this row about the Yule Ball. I knew he wanted to ask me to be his date, but he was being a git, and didn't."

"That's right. You went with Krum."

She nodded. "And he was cross. And I called him out on it…and he was embarrassed…but nothing came of it. Then this year, he and Lavender…."

"You told me. Good ole Lav Lav."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes. And…I dunno. I guess I got angry. And just…we never recovered."

"He's really rather a dumb git."

"Don't say that," she sounded exasperated.

"Well, why not? Clearly he's thick if he's choosing Lavender over you. And to not understand, or else be too stupid to see, that he was jealous about Krum…I mean, why would you want to be with someone so obtuse?"

She smiled at him. "Yeah…put it that way, and I see what you mean."

"You need to get over the goon, Hermione."

"Don't call him a goon."

"What should I call him? The Freckled Troll? Ginger Giant?"

She laughed. "Stop it, Draco! It isn't nice."

"Ah, but I'm a Slytherin. We aren't nice. You're thinking of the Hufflepuffs."

"No one could ever confuse you with a Hufflepuff."

"Thank you," he nodded.

"But it wasn't a compliment!"

"No? I completely took it as one."

"You really are awful."

He laughed. "But not boring."

"Definitely not."

He chuckled, sitting back.

She leaned forward. "You and Pansy…?"

"Not really, no."

"No? She sure seemed like she was into you."

He shrugged. "She was. But I dropped her."

"That is perfectly terrible."

"Why?"

"Because she _liked_ you, didn't she?"

Draco snorted. "She liked my money. My name. My…" he gave her a suggestive look.

Her eyes suddenly went wide. "Draco Malfoy!" she exclaimed.

He laughed. "Anyway, Parkinson didn't care about me, so I didn't care about her."

"Well, I'm sorry… it's her loss."

He didn't say anything, but looked at the back of her head. "Yeah," he said softly, looking down. And his mind went inexplicably to Dumbledore. "You know, I never could have killed Dumbledore…never have said the spell to do it."

She looked over at him. "I know it."

"Do you? Because I just realized it," he threw a twig in the fire.

"You don't really know yourself very well. What made you think that you could ever have done it?"

"I believed I would have done for my family. To prove that I could be a Death Eater. That I wasn't some weakling. I guess I was always trying to prove myself."

Hermione shook her head. "It's braver to stand up to what's wrong."

"Pfft," but he smiled. "Well, I did. In the end."

"Exactly. You did," she smiled at him as he looked up at her. "What made you change your mind?"

He shrugged. "Well, I hadn't been feeling right about it for a while. And then _you_ showed up. And I guess…I just started to realize that my parents were wrong. That V was wrong. And that I didn't need to just blindly follow them, even if it meant that I might die."

"So basically I saved you," she had a self satisfied grin on her face.

"No, Granger. You did not _save_ me."

"Sure sounds like I did," she sat back.

"You just…you know…"

"Yeah…the word you're looking for is _save_."

He snorted. "Maybe _I_ saved _you_."

"How do you figure that?"

"From all of the boring Gryffindorks."

And Hermione laughed now. "They're actually really great people. And if they need a place to stay at all, they're gonna be here."

"Will you offer that to Slytherins?"

"Of course. Except Pansy. Because she was awful to you," and Hermione stood and stoked the fire.

…there was a tiny voice that told him that she was jealous of Pansy. But he dismissed it, both because he did not think it was true, but also because he didn't know if he wanted it to be true. "Are you always going to defend my honor, Hermione?"

She giggled. "Well, someone here needs to be honorable," she sat back down and shivered.

…and he didn't know why, but he took his sweatshirt off and threw it over to her. "Here. You're freezing," and he got up and went to the tent to obtain another one from his bag.

She pulled it on and felt the warmth from his wearing it.

She smiled. Draco Malfoy was just chivalrous toward her. What a life.

* * *

"Looks good," she said, as she walked down the stairs. Everything had been cleaned, painted, and updated. "We'll need some cots…" she waved her wand and the sitting room suddenly had a stack of about twenty cots leaning against the wall. "And I'll get supplies…food. Then we'll be ready."

Draco was following her. "How can we get the Daily Prophet without arousing suspicion?" he went to the kitchen…it was bright and lovely. The only truly bright room in the house.

He had taken the larger bedroom in the front of the house out of habit. It wasn't until he realized what he had done, in taking the larger bedroom in Hermione's family's old house, that he felt badly. He should have declined and offered her the room.

But it was done.

And she had made the bedrooms rather dark…not morbidly so, but grays and greens…some dark blue.

He liked it.

"I can ask McGonagall to send it. But probably just once a week…" She put her hands on her hips and looked around. "Not bad, considering we only arrived a few days ago."

He nodded. "So…what now?" and he sat on a cushiony chair, looking up at her.

"Well…I'll send the tent to Hogwarts for Harry and Ron. Get food…mail, that stuff. Ask McGonagall for the Prophet. And then maybe in two days we can start your plan."

He nodded. Once all of that was done, he could start contributing more. His brain felt considerably less fried. "Good. Well…" he looked around. "Want me to come to town with you?"

"No! You'll be recognized."

"I can disguise myself, too, you know."

She appeared like she was going to protest, but clamped her mouth shut. "All right. Let's see."

He cocked a brow. Then waved his wand…and his hair was dark, his eyes, too. He had swollen his nose…yes. He looked different. You couldn't tell it was him unless you really looked at him.

"Fair," she said, scrutinizing. She waved hers and her hair was long, straight, and black. Her complexion was darker. She had changed her eye shape ever so slightly…

He nodded. "Very good. Let's go…"

She smiled and walked out, Draco behind her. She went over to the campsite while he looked a the lake. It took but a few minutes and she was back. Then she took his hand, and they disappeared.

Brassington was an old village. He looked around:

There were a few cafes.

The post.

A mini-mart.

Groceries.

Pharmacy.

"I'll go to the pharmacy and the post. You get groceries…" she handed him muggle money. "I'll need to find a way to get more…" she said to herself. "Running out quickly."

"How will that work?"

"Not sure. Probably need to involve my parents," she turned. "Go on, then…" she smiled.

He walked across the street to the grocers.  
He'd never really been grocery shopping before.

Draco went inside.

It was slightly overwhelming. He took a trolley and pushed it towards produce. He smiled and shrugged, tossing things inside.

Hermione had scribbled a note to Harry and Ron, then to McGonagall, who said that she'd send her assignments the following week. She fixed the package with the tent and the letter to Harry, and then went to the counter, giving them the address for the owl-post-muggle-conversion.

She hadn't known about the place in London until recently.

Wizards can send things via muggle post there, and they'll use owls to send on to the destination. The reverse happens, too. It all took a little longer, but it was really worth it. She thought that this should have been done ages ago instead of only recently with the war.

She also hoped that the Death Eaters wouldn't find out about it, because they'd surely put a stop to it.

She smiled and left for the pharmacy.

If they were going to be housing refugees, she'd best have some bandages and things. She'd packed essence of dittany, but not much else in terms of potions. Perhaps she'd ask McGonagall to send on some supplies next time.

Pleased with her purchases, she went to the grocery mart and looked around. She walked up and down some aisles…

And there was Draco, in front of the crisps.

"Hey…" she said, approaching him.

"Look at all of this nonsense."

"Hm? What do you mean?"

"There's got to be a hundred different snacks here. How many choices do they need, anyway?"

She laughed. "Just pick out a few and let's go. I'm sick of these trips every day," she looked in the trolley. "What are you getting?"

"I wanted some stew."

She picked up a gigantic roast. "This is enough for twelve people."

"Leftovers."

"It'll take days to make! We need to be more practical."

"Humph. You're no fun," and he put the roast back.

She smiled…and it suddenly struck her how odd it was to be food shopping with Draco Malfoy…almost as though…

But she shook her head.

"All right," she looked over the things…breakfast things…some lunch. "Good. Let's go," and she led him to the front of the store.

As they checked their things out, she watched as he examined some of the muggle magazines, and thought about what his critiques would be.

"What did you think of your first muggle shopping excursion?" she asked, adjusting the bags.

"Mm…not quite as boring as I was thinking it would be."

"You'll hate it soon enough," and she took his hand…

…and they turned on the spot.


	12. Castle Rock

Two days later Hermione walked into the kitchen to find Draco sitting at the table, reading his Charms book.

"Got the Prophet," she handed it to him and then unrolled her assignments. "Interested in doing some homework, too?" she asked, noticing his book.

"Mmay…" he looked up at her. "Nah."

She laughed. "I didn't have the chance to look the paper over. Anything?"

He was scanning it. "Dumbledore's funeral. That's really it."

She swallowed, nodding. "I wonder if they'll cancel classes for the rest of the term?"

"They might. What's the date?" he looked at the front of the paper. May fifth. "Probably not, actually. There's six weeks left."

Hermione sighed. "Well, until there's open war…"

"There is. We're in it," he looked at her steadily.

"But I mean…there's been no real conflict or direct attacks. So until those things happen, people are going to stay put. I guess what I'm saying is, we'll need to find a place for people to stay more permanently, after they stay here and recoup from whatever they'd been through. We won't be able to house dozens, maybe more, people forever. And now, with things being relatively idle, we have some time to do it."

He looked out of the window. She had a point. This would be more of a launching point to get them someplace else…but anywhere in England or Scotland was off the table. Who did he know abroad? "…do you think that Northern Ireland would be safe?" and he looked at her.

"You're thinking of the…"

"Gilliard's, yeah. They had a nice property."

"I'm not sure…it's still technically in our country…" she sat back and folded her arms. "But you know, I really _don't_ know the extent of V's reach. You'd know that better than me."

"No one I knew came from Ireland."

Hermione shrugged. "Worth a look, anyway. I'll start planning a trip over to talk to him."

Draco nodded. "I can help, you know," he smirked. "At the very least I'll send an owl to the Gilliard's."

She shrugged a bit. "Yeah, I guess I'm just used to making most of the plans."

"That's because you're used to being friends with morons."

She narrowed her gaze. "You really ought to stop. Insulting my friends is not endearing you to me."

And part of him wanted to lash out and say he didn't care. But that would have been a lie. _And why do I care if I'm lying to her? _He really did not want to answer that question. "Oh, come on Hermione. It's just a laugh."

"You've been much funnier," she said, standing. "Let's get some things started for dinner, I'll get some wash done, and then we can start planning the trip over."

"So we'll disapparate to Liverpool, then take the ferry to Belfast," she pointed on the map. "From there we'll disapparate to Castle Rock. Hopefully the Gilliard's will be home. It's an eight hour ferry ride, so we'll need to spend the night there."

He nodded. "And you're asking your parents for muggle money."

"Yeah. Mine will all be gone after this trip," she sighed. She hoped that her parents didn't mind…she wasn't at school, after all. And they didn't know that. She'd send the letter express and hopefully they'd have it in the post by the time they got back.

Draco looked out the window…they were in the sitting room now, and it was getting late. "You should have gone to Dumbledore's funeral."

"What?" she looked up. That came out of nowhere.

"Should have gone. Seen your friends…" he looked at her. "Do they know you're with me?"

She cleared her throat. "Yeah. They're pretty upset. But Harry knows that you weren't going to kill Dumbledore. He was there, frozen and invisible in the Astronomy Tower when you went to speak with him."

He folded his hands in his lap. He hated that Potter was there, though he couldn't account for his anger. "We leave when?"

"Friday. That way they should be home if they work, but won't be fussed about having guests on a weekend," she folded the map.

"All right. Well, I'm going to head up."

She watched him go. How ludicrous it was to be like this with Draco Malfoy. To essentially be playing house. And it came so naturally…as though there was no sordid history between them. Their time leading up to this must have really meant something to him, because he truly seemed like a completely different person.

And she had hated him! But now…now she honestly really cared about him. He was one of her best friends.

And he was different from Harry and Ron …definitely less like a brother and more like…

She leaned back. What was he like to her, if not a brother? She furrowed her brow in thought. There was friendship there, for sure. But something else, teasing along the edges.

And though there was an idea that slipped into her mind, she quickly dismissed it. They were going to do something meaningful to help people…that was it. And when all of this was over…Hermione swallowed.

If they both survived the war, what would happen to their friendship? Draco didn't seem too keen on being friends with Harry and Ron. Maybe if they got to know the new Draco…

But she was getting ahead of herself. They hardly acknowledged that she was with him here. And only barely admitting that he didn't kill Dumbledore…_He was going to kill him, Hermione! That had been his plan all along!_

That was what Harry had wrote to her.

She stood and went to the covered porch, looking out. The cloak of night had fallen, hardly a star could be spied in the dome of the sky.

Truth be told, she admired what Draco had done. It took courage to leave his family, make himself a marked man with a death wish. He had done those things on his own.

Maybe that was what she felt that made him seem a bit different from a sibling. She admired him.

Must be.

She turned and went upstairs, suddenly sleepy from her reverie.

* * *

They were on the ferry…it was an all day endeavor.

"I hope I don't get bloody seasick," complained Draco, looking out into the sea.

"Stop fussing," she was reading her Arithmancy book.

He looked at her. "She really sends you homework, and you love it."

"Mm. Yes," she didn't look up.

He shook his head, sighing, and letting his head fall on the rest. "You're mental. I mean, I like to read, too. But textbooks are bloody boring."

She snorted. "Says you."

He closed his eyes. "Wake me when we get to port."

She smiled to herself and looked over at him. His forehead was pressed against the widow…"Prat," she muttered.

"Heard that."

* * *

"So…we're going to Castle Rock. It's about fifty miles from here…" she was looking at the map. Hermione looked up at Draco. "You sure they didn't mind us coming?"

"I have no idea. Mr Gilliard didn't seem like he minded. But what other choice do we have?"

"None," she said. "All right," she took his hand and walked him over to a less crowded part of the station…and they disappeared.

* * *

Castle Rock was a quaint place on the sea's edge. It sloped and dove into rocks along the shore. There wasn't a lot of green, even though it was May. It was too spiked with stone.

"Where is their farm?" she looked around.

"Well…" and he took the reply from his jeans Tom Gilliard had sent him received the previous day. "Up Landing Lane…about a mile down…" he pointed. "Then just off the main road is Fawn Circle."

"Let's get to their road…" and they turned.

...

Fawn Circle was a lovely road…smallish and cozy. They walked toward the end of the lane…the sun was shining and it was warm.

As they approached the farm, Hermione noticed the place in full bloom. She took it all in, thinking that it would be a nice reprieve from the war in England.

"Draco?" Hermione looked. There was a dark haired man, average height, standing up on top of the hill just to their right. He was calling and waving his arm. "Be right there!"

Draco smiled a bit, but was feeling a touch overcome with memories. He recalled when he had been there, it was winter. And there had been a snowstorm…Northern Ireland didn't get a lot of snow, but during their visit there had been.

And there was something…he closed his eyes. What was it, now?

"Draco?" she was looking up at him. "All right?"

He nodded, and brushed passed her. "Hi Mr Gilliard!"

Gilliard was in front of him. "Call me Tom," he took Draco's hand.

"Thanks," he said. "This is Hermione Granger."

"Pleasure," said Tom.

Hermione nodded, smiling.

"Anne is just in the house. You're staying the night?"

"If that's all right," she said.

"Of course. Come on, then," and he took Hermione's bag.

There was tea set out, and Anne was bustling with laundry. Draco and Hermione sat at the kitchen table until Tom came and asked them to move to the sitting room. "So, Draco. You said that there was something very particular you wanted to talk about."

He cleared his throat and looked at Hermione. "Yeah. You see, there is a war going on in England at the moment. The Dark Lord is back, stronger than ever."

Tom nodded. "Sad business."

"Right. Well, Hermione and I are on the run. I had been set a task, and I didn't do it. And she, being my friend, wanted to come with me. But we wanted to _do_ something to help…"

"We have a safe house set up in Derbyshire, Mr Gilliard," Hermione interjected. "But there's only so much room there. And I'm not sure it's completely safe to stay in England. So what we were hoping, was that we could send people here…to your farm."

"If it's not safe in England, why don't you two stay here?"

"That's very kind, Mr Gilliard," Hermione began. "But we need to be there. To intercept and redirect refugees."

"You're quite young to be doing this."

Draco nodded. "Well. Someone has to."

"The last time I saw you, you were but a wee thing," Tom smiled. "And as I recall, your dad was not the happiest being here."

"No," his gaze fell.

"How are things with your dad now?"

He cleared his throat. "Well, about as good as you'd imagine them to be."

He nodded. "We'll help you. Send them until we can't hold any more. And then I'll find another place."

"Oh, thank you, Mr Gilliard!" Hermione exclaimed. "That's very generous."

"No problem," he stood. "Call me Tom."

She beamed, then looked at Draco, who appeared to be somewhat ill. "Draco?"

He looked over at her, then stood abruptly, leaving the room.

She was left there, feeling stricken.

It was after dinner, and the four of them were sitting around the table. The Gilliard's were talking about Narcissa and how she was when she was at Hogwarts with Tom.

"She laughed a lot," Tom was saying. "She wasn't one to make others laugh so much, but she had a great sense of humor."

Draco was transfixed…his mother. Laughing. What had happened to her? His father?

"It sounds like you had a wonderful time with her," Hermione said.

He nodded. "She was always so much fun."

"Well," Tom sighed, looking at Anne. "Ready, dear?"

"Do you two mind terribly if we head up?"

"Not at all," said Hermione. "I'll clean up."

"Thank you," smiled Anne, and she followed Tom upstairs.

Hermione looked over at Draco. "Are you all right?"

He nodded.

"You don't seem all right."

"I'm fine."

She set her mouth. "Come on, now. I know you."

"Do you? Because I hardly do," he stood and rinsed his glass, then summoned fire whiskey.

"Where'd you get that?"

"I have a store of things tucked away," he downed it. "Want some?"

"Absolutely not," but then she looked at the glass. "Well. Maybe just this once."

"There you go, Granger. Live a little. Merlin knows how much time we have left," and he filled her glass.

She drank it, then coughed.

He laughed.

"Shut it," she said, but smiled. "Is hearing this stuff about your mum upsetting?"

"No. Just confusing."

"Why?"

"Because _I've_ never known her to be so happy. So is it me? My dad? What's made her miserable?"

She looked at him. "Maybe she's not miserable. Maybe she's just scared."

"Yeah that's worse."

She sighed. "I don't know, Draco. I'm sure you're thinking too much about it, though."

"It's not _your_ mum he's talking about. Not _your_ mother who's always sad. Who looks like she's about to cry. Not _your_ mum who talks about her sister like she's the devil herself. Who I've caught with a look on her face like she's somewhere completely different," his voice was somewhat elevated.

"You're right. My mum doesn't do those things. And you're not your mum."

"That's not helpful," and he poured more whiskey.

"Well, maybe not now, but later. When you're feeling like nothing matters…"

"And what would prompt me to feel hopeless?"

She looked at him gravely. "Draco. We're at war. Hopelessness is inevitable."

He smiled. "Well, aren't you the cheerful Gryffindor…?"

Hermione laughed, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I can be. But I'm a realist. And while we're doing things that matter, there will be times when nothing does," she finished her drink. "Good night," and she left him there.

He watched as she left.

What a cock up. His mother was miserable…and he couldn't help but feel like his father was responsible.

Which made him hate the man even more.


	13. The First Ones

He sat straight up in bed…

His breathing was labored. He had had a nightmare. Draco rubbed his eyes and looked around.

They would be going back in a few hours…but there was something about this place which caused him disquiet, and he couldn't place it. He had assumed there was mostly happy memories here. He had enjoyed it when he was younger.

But his father…there was something…

He laid back down and sighed. He wanted to leave. It was troubling, and he had enough troubles without his mind reeling, too.

* * *

"What are you thinking about?"

He looked over at Hermione. They were in the kitchen at the Lake House, preparing for whatever people they'd be housing, and talking about the plans to move them eventually. Hermione's parents had sent her a letter, which had found itself on their doorstep, filled with money and concern. "Nothing."

"You've been quiet since last night at the Gilliard's. Something is bothering you," she put a hand on her hip and furrowed her brow.

"Think you know me so well, do you?" it wasn't a playful retort.

"No. But we've been friends now for months. We've spent a good deal of time together. I'm not unobservant."

He sighed. "There was something that happened when I was a kid at that farm, and I can't remember what it was. Something to do with my father."

She didn't respond right away, and dropped her hand. "Have you been in contact with your parents at all?"

He shook his head. "What would I say? I'm a fugitive. Both sides are after me."

Hermione nodded. "Maybe you should consider letting your mother know you're all right."

"No way. I'm not going to risk her safety. It's better to let her think I'm dead," and he went back to folding sheets.

He was folding bloody sheets. He did feel a bit moronic, doing all of this with Hermione Granger. But she was all he had…he kept thinking about that fact, and it terrified him. She could turn him in. Abandon him. She could kill him, and no one would know…

He swallowed, and looked at her.

No. She wouldn't do that. She was much too _noble_.

But if it had been the other way around, would he be so noble? "Why are you doing this, Hermione?"

"Doing what?" she stirred the potion on the stove. It was a healing draught…she was making stores in anticipation of injuries they'd need to tend to.

"This. All of it."

She looked up at him. "Are you seriously asking me that question again?"

He nodded.

And she shook her head. He must have worse self esteem than she had thought. "Because we're friends. And that's what you do for your friends."

Of course she pulled the friend card again. It was so unsatisfying of an answer. "I need some air," he stood and walked to the front door.

"Mind the protective spells!" she called after him.

He closed the door shut with a click, and walked down the lane to the lake, hands in his pockets. He felt incredibly conflicted. The abrupt change he had undergone was making his head spin…and his father, looming on the periphery of his mind. His mother, whom he loved, likely devastated by his apparent death, or the cruel deception he had done to the Death Eaters.

He wanted to believe that he had been young and naive. That if any of them had been shown kindness by someone who wasn't pure blooded they would have reacted the way he did to Hermione.

But he wasn't sure of it.

He had been vulnerable, and she was there. Willing to listen to him.

But why? Why had she done it?

He hung his head, and pulled his knees up.

…and he heard something from the house.

He stood and went in, thinking that she mucked up the potion or something…

But when he entered the kitchen, he saw that she was holding her left hand, bleeding. Draco ran over to her. "What happened?" he took her hand….there was a long cut in her palm. He took out his wand and began a healing spell, knitting her skin back.

"My hand slipped," she said through clenched teeth.

"For Merlin's sake, Hermione," he was mopping up the blood. "Maybe I should be…" but he stopped as he looked at the white towel streaked with her blood. Then he looked up at her. "I …"

"What?" her face searched his.

He backed away, then went up to his room.

The towel was discarded on the floor.

* * *

It was some time before he heard her knocking, and he didn't answer.

She opened the door and walked in to find him sitting on the edge of his bed. "Here," she handed him some tea.

"No thanks."

"Come on, Draco. Stop this now. Tell me what's wrong."

"Oh, I don't know, Hermione," and he stood. "Maybe everything I've ever known was a lie. Maybe I realized that I've never had any friends…" he went to his window, looking out. "Maybe I saw your blood and realized it's red, just like mine. And maybe I remembered the first time I actually saw my blood was after my father punched me in the face, at the Gilliard's, for defending them, and I saw my blood splattered in the snow. And I realized just how terrified I was of my own father," he was yelling now, and then turned toward her. "That's the memory of snow that I have. My own blood, little droplets over the pure white snow. My pure blood, dirtying the stuff…and my father, with all of the hate in his eyes."

She stood and went over to him. "I'm sorry," she whispered, and took his hand. "I'm sorry."

He snatched it away. "Don't pity me."

She blanched. "I'm not. But you shouldn't have to feel that way about your father."

He looked down at her…her brown eyes looking at him with concern, with emotion…with care. Draco swallowed…"I don't feel anything about my father," he whispered.

"Yes you do. And it's all right that you do. Anyone would," she took his hand again.

"Stop that," he tried to take his hand back, but she wouldn't let go.

"I understand…"

"No you don't!" and this time he wrenched his hand free. He sighed, running his hands through his hair and taking a step back. "Sorry. It's just that…I guess I've known for a while that I didn't believe the lies…the lies about you and everyone like you. Because of you," he added softly. "But I'm only now seeing how much my father had to do with all of it."

She nodded. "I can only imagine how much that hurts."

"It only hurts as much as I let it."

Hermione looked down and out the window. "Did you ever finish Hamlet?"

"What?"

"Hamlet. Did you finish it?" and she looked back at him.

"Yeah. They all died."

She smirked. "But Hamlet was about wavering and not acting. And that was what got them all killed," and her voice fell. "That's not what you're doing. You're acting on the knowledge you now have, and it's for the good of everyone."

"It might still get everyone killed," he replied, looking intently at her.

"Maybe. But you're doing what you need to do, Draco Malfoy," she smiled.

"Am I?"

"Yes," and she stood up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Now get some rest. We start tomorrow."

She left him there.

And he touched his cheek where she had kissed him.

* * *

She returned with the Prophet in the morning, having not slept well. She was worried about what they were about to do, and thinking about Draco and his state of mind. He seemed to be faltering right when she needed him the most.

"Morning," she said, entering the kitchen. Hermione put the mail down…McGonagall had sent more work…finals were approaching. "Look," she pointed to the front page of the Prophet.

Draco took it.

_Disappearances in Essex are thought to be the work of Death Eaters_

"There it is. First day, first task," he stood, drinking the rest of his coffee.

She nodded and stuffed some toast in her mouth. "Let's go," she tore the page from the Prophet and walked out the door.

He followed her, feeling both terrified and exhilarated.

Essex was a bustling place. They were standing on the side of a hill, looking down into one aspect of the place. "Is it near here?" he asked.

She took out the paper. "I think I was thinking of the correct address…" she looked around. "Come on," and she walked down with some purpose. Along they walked, and Hermione stowed her wand in her back pocket as they approached the center of the place. She looked around. "Must be here somewhere…"

Draco narrowed his eyes, scanning the area. "How long ago was it?"

"This is yesterday's paper."

He nodded, still looking. "There," and he pointed to a dark house, with its windows apparently blown out.

Hermione started toward it. "I guess the muggles can't see it," she whispered.

"They all usually put protective stuff on houses…" he reached the front door…creaked it open.

It wasn't decimated. There were things strewn about, like a struggle had taken place. Hermione looked around and then went to the kitchen. "We need to find mail," she called to Draco. "Something that will link them to someone else. That's where they'd be."

"Hopefully," he muttered.

"Ministry has already been through most of it. Confiscated it." she sighed. "This will be more difficult than I thought. I guess I should have realized that they'd take things," she shook her head. It had been worth a shot, coming here. But unless they got to places right away, or else had some prior knowledge about where the Death Eaters would strike next, they'd likely be running blind throughout this endeavor.

And he heard it. Someone crying…"Hermione…did you…?" he walked over to the back door of the kitchen and opened it.

The garden was lovely, albeit small. It sloped down, and there was a tree house situated in the corner. Draco went over to it and climbed up the rope ladder, opening the door.

Two children were there, huddled in the corner, holding each other close. "Hermione!" he called. "It's ok. We're gonna help you," and he held his hand out so that they saw he wasn't armed. "I'm Draco," he heard Hermione enter. "What's your names?" he squatted in front of them.

The girl was older and she swallowed, her eyes large. "My name is Lizzie. This is Finn."

He nodded. "Are you here by yourselves?"

She looked at her brother, who was no more than six, by the looks of it. "Yes."

"And have you left here since…"

"No," she answered. "Are they gone?"

Hermione nodded and knelt in front of them. "Would you like to come to our house and have something to eat? Then maybe you could play by the lake," she smiled at their reactions. "Come on. Pack a bag and we can go," she led them all out of the treehouse, and watched as they went to the house. "It's incredible that they're here. Did the Death Eaters not know they had two kids, or didn't they care?"

"I'm not sure. It depends on who was in charge," he put his hands in his pockets and looked around.

"You know, what we need is a glimpse into what the Death Eaters are planning next. That way we can beat them to it."

He looked at her. "How would we get that information?"

"Dunno," she shrugged, smirking. "You're the former Death Eater. Does something like that even exist?"

He tried not to let her words sting him, because she was telling the truth. Maybe that's why it stung. "Sometimes they have a list. But only sometimes."

"Where would it be?"

"Probably wherever V is. Which means my house," he cringed a bit.

Lizzie and Finn ran out with their bags. "Have some clothes? Some toys? Toothbrushes?"

Lizzie nodded. "He almost forgot his toothbrush."

"Well he's lucky to have you," Hermione smiled. "Ever disapparate with anyone?" she took Lizzie's hand.

"No," she said.

She nodded. "Draco, take Finn," and she looked at the children. "This will probably feel uncomfortable for a minute, but I promise you'll be fine, ok?"

They disappeared, the spell closing in on them as they left.

Draco dropped Finn's hand and looked around. The place _felt_ like home. And he wasn't sure if he liked that or not. "Come on. You're probably starving," and he took Finn's hand once more, leading him behind Hermione and Lizzie into the kitchen.

Hermione spooned out some soup and cut bread. She handed a bowl to everyone. It was lunchtime, after all. "Are either of you hurt?"

Lizzie was greedily slurping the soup. "No. Just hungry."

Hermione looked at Draco. In order to discover what happened, they'd need to tread lightly. "So…you and Finn were in the treehouse for a while?"

Finn nodded, breaking off some bread.

Draco looked at him. "Were you scared?" he didn't know why he asked that question.

"Yes," he replied.

And there was an anger that swelled inside of Draco Malfoy…and he felt himself falter with it. "You're safe. And you can stay here as long as you need to."

Hermione shot him a glance. "Draco, would you mind helping me get their room ready? You two can come up when you're finished. Don't go outside until I've checked the protective spells, ok?"

The children nodded, still eating hungrily.

She grabbed the bags and went upstairs with Draco following behind. They went into the third bedroom, situated at the back of the house, and started to unpack their things. "Look. I know that they're just kids, but we have a plan. We can't have them stay here indefinitely. They'll need to go to the Gilliard's."

He sighed, looking at her. "I know that," he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "But they don't want to hear they're leaving, starting again. Let them stay a few days and we'll take them to the farm."

"Oh," she said, taken aback. "You were just trying to comfort him."

"Of course I was, Granger. What do you take me for?"

She smiled, suddenly seeing him differently yet again. "You're an impressive person, you know."

"Of course I know that," and he put clothes in the dresser. "And charming, handsome, witty, intelligent…if you weren't so thick, you'd realize what a catch I was."

She stopped, a blank look on her face. "I mean…" what was he playing at?

"Relax, Hermione. I'm just messing with you," he winked.

"Oh. Yeah. Of course," she blushed.

"I'll get the kids so they can set the rest of their stuff up," and he left.

Hermione watched him go.

And she thought about him, and the transformation he had undergone right before her eyes…and_ his _eyes, dark and stormy blue…

Draco was handsome, she thought, noting how unlikely she would have thought that before all of this. And he was funny.

And suddenly kind.

She shook her head. It would not do to think about such things. They were in the middle of a war.

…and she heard the kids running up the stairs.


	14. Wavering and Resolve

She caught herself a few times looking at him just to look. She'd swallow and turn away as soon as she realized what she was doing.

What was the matter with her? Staring at Draco Malfoy! Absurd.

But he was so good with Lizzie and Finn…she never would have guessed that he'd know how to talk with kids. And not just talk, but entertain them. They both seemed to love him.

And he was…well. Many things to her now, if she was being honest. He was one of her best friends. Her companion and confidant. He was her…

Her partner. They had become a team. And that meant something to her.

"Dinner's ready!" she called. They would be leaving the next day for the ferry…the Gilliard's would meet the kids in Belfast.

And they'd finally got them to tell them that the Death Eaters had taken their parents, not killed them.

Walter and Annie Kelpis had been local alchemists…and she wondered what Voldemort could want with a couple of alchemists.

The three came in and sat at the table. Draco passed around the chicken. "So, you'll be going to the farm tomorrow," he began. "And Hermione and I will check in on you both next weekend…ok?"

Lizzie nodded. She had taken some convincing by Hermione that the Gilliard's were safe.

Finn, however, was sad. "Can't you come with us?"

Hermione sat and dished out some salad. "It'll just be the ferry ride. And we're packing you snacks," she smiled. Besides, she needed to talk about their next move…she had an idea, and she wasn't sure that Draco would like it.

For it was pure happenstance that they found Lizzie and Finn. They couldn't risk that again. They needed to be more prepared.

They finished up and the kids went back out to the lake. "Come back in soon! You'll both need a wash," she called. Hermione waved her wand and set the dishes cleaning.

"You know, I'll miss them," he said.

"I will, too," she sighed, sitting back down. "I wanted to talk with you."

He looked at her, and sat back. His eyebrows went up. "You need a formal invitation, Granger?" he smiled. "I mean, it's not like we've been _living together_ for weeks now."

She chuckled. "Well, I'm just not sure how you're going to take this."

He sighed and rested his elbows on the table. "I already don't like it."

"So…here's the thing. We were pretty lucky finding Finn and Lizzie."

He nodded. "I think I see what's coming."

"Ok, well…we have no idea when our luck will change. So, we need to know what plans the Death Eaters have."

"Uh huh," he furrowed his brow. "You want to get your hands on some plans."

"Well, yes."

"And you want me to go to the Manor and take whatever I can find."

She shrugged. "Have you got a better idea?"

"How the hell am I supposed to do that, hm?"

"Weelll…I can go inside. Disguised. And you can, you know. Direct me somehow."

"No."

"Don't you think…"

"No I don't think. This is a terrible idea."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We can't just rely on the Prophet. We need to have some ideas…some leads…"

He shook his head. "This is just…it's so risky."

"Well, why don't you try to come up with something else?"

Draco looked at her. "Snape."

"Excuse me?"

"You're talking to McGonagall…maybe I could talk to Snape."

"But he'd tell V where you are!"

"Mm…not necessarily. He'd offered his assistance before. Maybe I can blackmail him or something."

"You want to blackmail Snape," she rolled her eyes. "Draco, that's almost as bad as my idea."

He threw his hands up in the air. "I dunno! But I'm not going back to the Manor, and neither are you," he stood and waved his wand, putting things away.

She watched him work. "You know…there's bound to be Death Eater activity at Hogwarts now that Dumbledore is gone. Maybe we can go back and take a look. After term ends."

He shrugged and sat back down. "Maybe."

She smiled and put her chin in her palm. "But we'd need to get on top of something before that. There's still a month left."

He didn't answer.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing. Just thinking about tomorrow."

Hermione nodded. "Yeah. I'll miss them."

…and something banged against the window. She got up and opened it. "Oh no," she whined. "Someone sent us an owl…I hope it wasn't spotted," she took the parchment and gave the owl a sickle. "Oh…"

"What is it?"

"It's…an invitation. For me."

"To what?" Draco stood.

"To Harry's birthday and Bill and Fleur's wedding the next day," she looked up at him.

"When is that?"

She read. "July 31st and August 1st. So, about two months away now."

He nodded. "Well, you'll need to decline."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you're on the run," he said with a lilt to his voice, as though it was obvious.

"Well, there'll just be the Order there."

"I don't give a shite about your bloody Order! If they found out who you're with…"

"How would that happen?" she crossed her arms.

He stared at her. "Really."

Her mouth set. "What are you saying, Draco? I can't keep a secret? Because I have done for months and months."

"You're an honorable Gryffindor who will blab the second someone asks you a pointed question," he rolled his eyes at her.

"I'm your _friend._ You need to learn how to trust people…especially me, Draco Malfoy. If you haven't noticed, I'm the only one here."

"Of course I've effing noticed! What do you take me for?! I'm not a moron, Hermione…I'm a lot of things, mind. But stupid isn't one of them," he sat back down, thinking of Finn and Lizzie outside. Hermione was talking about something that was two months away. Loads of things could happen in two months' time.

"Look," and she sat next to him. "I don't want to argue…"

"You started…"

"Shut up, will you? I'd rather we kept things cordial until we see the Kelpis's on the ferry. We can discuss this further then, all right?"

He nodded. He knew that he'd be losing this argument.

And Hermione was thinking that she needed to convince him to break into Malfoy Manor. Maybe they could combine her going to the Burrow and his trip to the Manor somehow…

* * *

They waved as the ferry set off. Hermione had given both of the children Polyjuice Potion, and did the standard hexes on her and Draco to disguise themselves. The Potion should last a good long while. At least a few hours…and then they had to take another swig. She gave them placards to hold up the Gilliard's name when the docked.

She was worried, but she truly believed that everything would be fine.

Draco seemed less convinced.

…and Hermione worried that he was wavering in his resolve. She supposed that this was difficult for him, something she hadn't thought about since they had left Hogwarts. She had just been so focused on what they were doing and what was next that she had largely ignored both of their emotional states.

Perhaps she'd make dinner and they could discuss things…or else just relax for a little.

They disapparated and went back to the lake house. Draco didn't say much. He went up to his room and she heard him shut the door.

She sighed, waved her wand, and started to make dinner.

He heard her downstairs, and felt a rush of anger. It was illogical, of course, to be angry. She hadn't done anything but be completely accommodating and nice.

And maybe that was the problem.

He was a Malfoy. A Slytherin, and he had been ignoring these facts for months. Yes, he had changed, but part of him was still that person.

He began to pace.

She was a Gryffindor. A Muggle-born. And there should be animosity between them, not a common purpose. Not friendship. Not…

He stopped. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

When Hermione had said that she was going to the Weasley's for a birthday party and a wedding, he had gotten upset. Why?

He believed it had been because he was completely at her mercy.

But now that he thought about it, it seemed like something more.

"Draco!"

He jumped, swallowing. "Be right there," he didn't yell back, he just said it, hoping she'd hear.

He went downstairs, wondering at his reaction…hoping that it wasn't anything more than what he had originally thought it was.

It smelled really lovely when he got into the kitchen, and he was reminded how hungry he was.

"Hi," she handed him a glass.

"What's this?"

"Meade," she replied. "I nicked it," she smiled.

"_You_ did?"

"Yes. Have a seat, Draco," she went to the kitchen and spooned out dinner: roast and potatoes with root vegetables.

"What's going on?" he asked as she handed him a plate.

"We need to talk, and I thought this might be nice," she sat and sipped her mead.

He sighed. "What do you want to discuss?" he took a bite. Quite good.

"Now don't get bothered. Nothing new…but I really think we need to consider what we're doing here, and how we can be the most effective."

"You're talking about the Manor."

"Well, yes. Draco, if there are a set of plans, that's where they'd be, right?"

He shrugged. "I really don't know for sure."

"But it's a place to start."

"How do propose we do this? I can't bloody well march in and ask for plans."

"We can do Polyjuice Potion. Or a disillusionment charm…" she took a bite.

"Hermione. Look. I don't _want_ to do this."

"Do you want what we're doing to be successful?"

He studied her a moment. "Yes."

"Then how do we do this?"

"I …" he stopped. "I'm confused. I'm feeling…bloody lost," he hung his head. He hated admitting that to her. "And I'm like a ghost, because no one but you knows where I am. Or _if_ I am."

"It's difficult relying completely on another person," she downed her mead and summoned some more.

He looked at her. "Yeah. Especially someone who was your sworn enemy for years."

"More mead?" she poured more in his glass. "Come on. Let's get some air. Bring your glass," she stood and went outside, Draco following behind.

She sat on the front step looking out at the lake. The sun was low, and the sky was turning a peach color.

He sat next to her, his knees pulled up close. "It's odd, this. We are doing odd things."

"Everything these days is odd, Draco."

He nodded, drinking more. "I'll go."

"What?" she snapped her head toward him.

"I'll do it. No point in doing this half-assed, is there?"

"No…" she narrowed her eyes, then dropped them. "I'll make sure you're safe."

"I know it," he paused. "But you don't have to." He looked out into the lake. "You're definitely going to the Weasel barn, huh?"

She shook her head. "Yes. And don't call it that."

He chuckled. "What's life if you don't have some fun with it, Granger?"

"But not at the expense of others!" she exclaimed. "But…ya. Life needs to be fun…" she paused. "But lately…I dunno. I feel as though this time here…it's as though I'm living some sort of alternate time. A…not a stolen time. Something else…"

"A half life?" he offered.

"Yeah. Something like that."

Draco nodded. "I know exactly what you mean."

She smiled, and nudged a bit closer to him. "Who'd have thought?"

"Thought what?" he looked at her.

"We'd be here. Doing this."

"Not me. Not in a million effing years."

And her smile faded, and was replaced by something else. Something not quite there yet, but beating its wings along the periphery. "No. Nor I."

And they both looked at each other, then back at the lake.

The amaranthine sky was bleeding in on itself, becoming something else. Becoming twilight. And they knew, though neither knew how, that the resolve they had regarding those days in a couple of months would alter things somehow.

But they were here now, inexplicably they were here.

And that was all that mattered in that moment.


	15. Plans

The next two months were filled with preparations and occasional refugees staying at the Lake House. There were some families, some muggle-borns who had abandoned their families in order to keep them safe.

And Hermione enjoyed helping them as much as she could. She would listen to their tales of woe, feed them…and she would write to Harry and Ron. She heard from Ron that they would be bringing Harry to the Burrow, but he left out any details.

So she did, too. She reported that things were going well, and she looked forward to seeing them soon.

She didn't mention Draco.

Because their relationship was odd, and it seemed to be getting increasingly so. Not for any reason that she could pinpoint, in fact, she felt as though it was obscure and strange, all of it. They were friends to be sure, but committed to a goal. Most of their conversation now was about achieving that goal.

And as the end of July neared, what to do about Malfoy Manor.

They were sitting in the covered porch, talking about the best way for him to covertly get inside.

"Will there absolutely be someone there?"

He nodded. "Especially if _he's_ there. He's almost never by himself in the house."

She bit her lip. "I still think a disillusionment charm would work."

"Maybe we can send an owl with a diversion…"

"What sort of diversion would empty the entire Manor?" Hermione said sardonically.

He looked at her. "Harry Potter."

"Excuse me? Are you suggesting that we bait them with Harry?"

"Well, maybe if we lay a false trap.."

"This sounds much too complicated, Draco."

"No wait," he sat back. "Listen. What if I sent an owl to my mother, telling her to give my father false information about where Potter will be? They'd all leave except her, and I could get the information from her."

"Would your mother betray your father like that, though?" her eyes were wide.

"She'll want to see me, Granger. I think that it'd be safe to let her know that I'm alive."

A slow breath issued from her mouth. "So, while I'm at the Burrow, you're going to visit with your mum," she tried to mask as best she could her apprehension. What if his resolve waned in the company of his mother?

"That's the idea, yes," and though his face remained stoic, the mention of the Weasley hovel made him cringe inwardly.

"There's a lot that's being risked here, Draco. Our location, mostly, but other things, too."

"Such as?"

"Well, what if…what if…" she was having trouble verbalizing her main concern, because it sounded like she was losing faith in him.

And it wasn't that, not really.

"Spit it out, Hermione."

"Well, she's your mum, isn't she? What if you decide you don't want to leave her?"

His visage turned cold. "Are you saying that after everything we've done here, you still doubt my commitment to this? To…" he swallowed. "You?"

She sighed. "If I were to see _my _mother, it'd be difficult for me to leave her, considering the danger we're in almost constantly," it didn't escape her notice that he claimed a commitment to her and their friendship, but she hid the pang she felt at the mention.

"Look. You can doubt me all you want. I know you're as bright as they come. If for some reason, I'm not here when you get back, wait an hour, and then abandon it. I won't come after you. I won't tell them where we were. They could possibly use Legilimency against me, but even if I get too homesick, I won't tell them. Just leave. Go back to Potter and Weasley," he nearly spat the last. "Better?"

She felt an unease. He was angry, and she couldn't really blame him. "Draco, I'm sorry that you're cross…"

"Why are you sorry? It's the truth, isn't it? I'm a Death Eater," and he rolled up his sleeve to show her the Mark. Even though it was summer, he wore the long sleeves to cover his shame. "And you should be wary. Never forget, Hermione, no matter how much I have changed, this will always be here," and he stood. "Like I said. You're as smart as they come. You know what I was before all of this. I could probably spend my life trying to undo it, but nothing will erase this. I can only cover it," he turned away from her and went to go back into the house.

She stood hurriedly and went over to him, taking his hand. "I'm sorry. I'm just worried that you won't come back," she said softly.

"Why would you think that?" he replied, not looking at her.

"I don't know. Maybe because I'd be tempted. This is all so difficult. It'd be wonderful to not worry, wouldn't it?" she tugged at his hand to have him face her. "To wake up and not be scared? To make breakfast without thinking about the people suffering? To just, be? Do you remember that? What that was like? Because I hardly do."

He examined her face…and there was a pull of kind. Something bade him to comfort her, something in him wanted to touch her…he reached out and tucked a stubborn curl behind her ear. "No. I don't remember. But I dream of it," and he leaned over and kissed her forehead.

Hermione wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder, feeling the warmth and his steadiness of breath. It felt safe. She sighed.

And he felt something stir deep in his belly…something that was not there before, but her closeness and her breath made him swallow…

Something was happening…

He pulled himself away from her. "You leave in two days. Let's get some rest so that we might have our plans laid out tomorrow," and he left.

Hermione stood there a moment, wondering what had happened, and if he had felt something, too.

* * *

She was packed for the two nights. He had written to his mother in a code he thought she'd understand, but couldn't be certain, so his plan was to check while invisible and if she wasn't alone, come right back to the lake house.

Hermione was standing by the lake looking out into the expanse. It felt odd to be leaving without Draco; odder still that she'd be seeing Harry and Ron, as well as the other Weasley's. She sighed. It was as though she had been living in another time.

"Ready?" he came up from behind her.

She nodded, then looked at him. "Promise that you'll be careful."

He rolled his eyes. "Of course I'll be careful. It's my mum, Hermione."

"But she might not be alone. You need to be wary…"

"I know."

"And what if she didn't understand your code? What if she didn't receive the owl? There are so many unknowns…"

"Do you want to do this or not?"

"Of course…"

"Then will you shut up and trust me? I'm trusting you, for Merlin's sake."

She set her mouth. She wanted to say something like _of course you can trust me, _but that sounded too severe to her. "All right. I'll be back on the 2nd. And you're coming back here tomorrow, right?"

He nodded. "Say happy birthday to Potter for me," he smirked, and walked to edge of the clearing, beyond the protective spells, and disappeared.

Hermione shut her eyes, trying not to think about how much she was going to miss this little life they had constructed…

…and she followed where he had gone, and left.

* * *

Draco appeared about half a mile from the Manor. It was warm, but overcast, and the sun was feathering its rays softly through the cloud cover.

He sighed and cast the disillusionment charm over his head and began to trudge down the lane.

He was hoping that everything had gone to plan, but there was so much that could possibly go wrong. His mother, he truly believed, wanted to see him, and would do whatever was necessary to do so.

He only hoped that she wasn't thwarted in her attempts.

He walked on and spotted the intimidating structure just beyond a copse of trees. He swallowed and walked on, checking the charm as he went.

It was early yet, and he hoped that she understood the reference to the veranda, because it had been that place that she'd sit and watch him play in the garden. And he thought about how he had shown Hermione the garden from his room, back a few months now, in the Room of Requirement. And he thought that though he was tearing himself apart then, this task was going to be so much more difficult than that.

He waved his wand, hoping that the same counter spells worked against the protective enchantments that his father placed outside the Manor.

He walked through. Apparently, Lucious had not altered them.

Draco went around the back to the veranda, and there was his mother, sitting in the sun. He took a deep breath, then went to her, keeping the charm on. He hesitated, then summoned a hollyhock from the garden, and had it land in her lap. She jumped, and turned…she wasn't looking at him, but she nodded.

He tapped his wand on the top of his head.

And Narcissa saw him, and stood, tears in her eyes. She didn't say anything, but held her hand out to him. Draco went to her and took it, kissing the top of her hand. He looked at her questioningly, and she nodded. "Only Wormtail is here," she said softly. "The diversion worked, but we only have about an hour," they sat closely, Draco still holding her hand.

"Then I'll be quick, because I thought they'd be gone until tomorrow."

"Your father and Bellatrix are coming back today, regardless if Potter is discovered. They are with the Dark Lord. He is near the Ministry…it is believed that it will be falling within days, and he wants to be there to issue orders before he returns here."

He nodded, dropping his eyes. "What I'm about to tell you will upset you, but you mustn't tell anyone. Not _anyone_, or they'll find me and kill me."

She swallowed, nodding. "What is it, Draco?"

He sighed, then looked at her. "I'm working against the cause. I'm helping refugees of the war with a friend, and we need help discovering where the Death Eaters are striking, so that we might evacuate and relocate them."

"You're working…"

"Against the Dark Lord, mother. Yes," he searched her eyes. "And we need help."

"Who's this friend? Surely not one the Slytherins…"

"No," he cleared his throat. He wasn't going to tell her who it was. "I cannot tell you. But please believe me when I say that I'm done with all of this. I don't believe any of it. And I would love you to join me…not physically, obviously, but the cause is wrong, mother. And if you were to help occasionally, it could mean hundreds of lives saved," he ended quickly, his breath heavy.

"Who _are_ you, Draco? What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about truth and lies. I'm talking about realizing that you're wrong. I'm talking about being humble enough to own it, and to do something about it."

She shook her head. "If your father knew…"

"Then you mustn't tell him. Not any of it," he swallowed, and dropped her hand. "I understand if you're too afraid. But it would mean…"

"I am not afraid. I'm simply confused."

He sighed. "My friend showed me that I was wrong. And now, I see it everywhere. And I'm in hiding, but I don't want to remain idle…so this is what we're doing."

Narcissa nodded. "Very well," she waved her wand, and parchment appeared in his hands. "Make copies. There are no dates, only locations and those people of interest at the locations. I do not know when any of these places might be invaded, but there it is," she canted her head towards it.

"Thank you," he breathed. Draco waved his wand and made copies, then handed the original back to his mother. "It's good to see you," he smiled.

And she returned it. "We have so little time left. Tell me what's happened to you, son."

So he gave her vague information, not wanting her to be subjected to veritiserum or Legilimency, and they talked for their remaining time in the warm midday sun.

And when it was time for him to go, there were words of encouragement. She kissed his cheek. He hugged her tightly.

…and Wormtail peered on from a second floor window.


End file.
